#it's harder to keep your cool when actual feeling are involved lmao | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

duskholland · 3 years

Text

No Control || Frat!Tom Smut

summary ↠ tom can’t stop thinking about harrison’s girl, and it’s starting to become a problem. — in love with your best friend’s girl au. warnings ↠ this is fifty shades of morally-ambiguous grey, but I wouldn’t say it’s /too/ out there..?¿ there’s no actual infidelity but because of the au, there are themes of cheating, so avoid this if it’s a touchy subject for you. cw: a lot of alcohol, a ton of jealousy/possessiveness, heavy swearing, ongoing frat/party/bet culture, tom being a bad friend, harrison being a bad boyfriend, y/n being a bad girlfriend, and nsfw content. this contains smut! 18+ minors dni. word count↠ 17.6k. a/n ↠ please don’t do this irl, this is just fantasy !!!! y/n, tom and harrison are all flawed people, so please don’t go into this expecting them to all be perfect !!!! this was almost twenty thousand times more debased and fucked up, but I reeled it in last minute :’) that being said, this was still so much fun to write lmao. I listened to your girlfriend by blossoms + jessie’s girl pretty much on repeat as I wrote this! title is from 1d’s classic banger, which apparently influenced this more than I’d thought. thanks to all the anons who sent in ideas for this the other week!! a lot of them made it into this fic, so if you sent in a concept—thank you so much <3 I messed around with the pov so it flips halfway through! it should be obvious but I’m flagging it so you don’t think I went mad. hasn’t happened yet my lovelies but frat!tom does test me ! :’)) enjoy !!! <3

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

extended warnings ↠ masturbating (male), oral + fingering (fem receiving), protected mxf sex. possessiveness in the dirty talk. again, there is no infidelity but there is a lot of bad behaviour + boundary pushing <3

✧ *:･ﾟNo Control･ﾟ:*✧

Tom has seen a lot of pretty girls in his life, but tonight, he thinks that he’s seen an angel.

The frat is loud. The crowd is so thick he can barely breeze, and the fog machine has left a deep grey smog smothering the living room. Flashing strobe lights and the deep drums of bass cut through the air, but despite the way Tom’s head hurts, everything irritating fades as he looks across the room and sees a girl. You. You’re standing in the open doorway, leaning against one of the beams, a solo cup in one hand with the other resting on your waist.

He instantly knows that he wants you.

You’re in a red dress, with the flattering material clinging to your waist and shoulders. It draws Tom’s attention, but that’s quick to shift to your face as he watches you laugh at a joke made by one of your friends. He recognises a few of the people that you’re with from one of his lectures, but he’s almost certain he’s never seen you before. He’d definitely remember.

“Bro? What’s up?” Harrison is behind him, Tom’s best mate. They’ve been friends since high school, and when Tom had decided to up sticks and move across the ocean to a college in America, Harrison had followed. He’s good like that. “You’re just staring at the wall. Look like a proper tosser.”

Tom scowls as he drags his eyes away from you, directing all of his most scathing anger at Harrison. The blond is smirking. Perched on top of his head is a black SnapBack, printed with the frat’s logo. It matches the one that Tom’s wearing, just Tom has it pulled on backwards. He’s the only member of the frat that wears it like that, and it’s become an unofficial declaration of his status.

For the last year, Tom has held the revered position of president of the frat. It’s a lot harder than he’d thought it’d be, but it comes with perks. Several perks.

“I’m looking,” Tom replies, crossing his arms.

“At what?”

Discreetly, Tom brings his cup to his lips and uses his index finger to sneakily point across the room. He leads Harrison to you.

“That girl,” he says slowly. “Do you know who she is? Who invited her?”

Tom prides himself on knowing most people on campus—or, at least, anyone he needs to know. Anyone involved in Greek life or the party scene at his college has a face burned to his memory, and he prides himself on recognising matching names too. A lot of power comes with being able to immediately recognise someone. It makes him likeable, and he feels good knowing that someone feels appreciated by him.

“Dunno,” Haz mutters. He squints his eyes as he looks at you too. “She’s with Tyra. Maybe they’re friends?”

Tom scoffs. “Well, I’d guess that, yeah.”

“Are you going to do anything, or continue to stare like a creep?”

After taking a final swig of his drink, Tom pushes the empty plastic cup into Harrison’s hands. His mate thumps him on the back.

“I’ll be back,” he mutters. Then Tom pauses and throws out an easy smile. “Or not. Depends.”

Harrison rolls his eyes. “Go on.”

“See ya, mate.”

As Tom walks across the crowded room, he tries to hold himself a little straighter. He’s dressed simply tonight, in an all-black combination of t-shirt and jeans, but the gold chain he has around his neck adds a little depth. Around his wrist is his watch, and it glints as Tom reaches up to briefly whip off his hat and tousle his hair. His eyes are fixed firmly on you, and he finds himself grinning when you see him.

You’re even more radiant up close. Your eyes are a beautiful shade, and they fill with curiosity as you look Tom up and down. An expression of intrigue passes over your features as you mutter something to a friend and push away from the doorframe, being pulled to Tom as if by an unseen gravitational force.

“Hi, darling,” Tom leads with, keeping his voice cool. When you step closer, he meets you, easily and lightly pressing his hands to your waist as he kisses your cheek. “I’m Tom.”

You give him a wry smile. “I know who you are,” you reply. Your eyes are fluttering all over his face, and your hips feel soft beneath his hands. “Y/N.”

Tom likes how your voice sounds.

“Beautiful name for a beautiful woman,” he responds easily. He crosses his arms, angling them in a way that makes his muscles bulge. “I’ve not seen you around here before.”

There’s a shyness to your gaze that makes Tom smile wider, and he watches as you fiddle with your hair and tentatively meet his gaze.

“Do you know everyone that comes to your parties, Tom?”

“Yeah.” Tom slips his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “Or, at least, I try to. I know I’d definitely remember someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” You’re speaking louder now, emboldened by how fully Tom’s giving you his attention. All around you, there are people looking, people whispering. Everywhere Tom goes, he garners attention.

Tom offers you an easy smile, tilting his head to the side as he nods. Sometimes he likes to play it cool and keep his cards close to his chest, but he doesn’t think you’d like that. He doesn’t think the chase is necessary. You’re looking at him with round, inquisitive eyes, and your gaze keeps circling back to his mouth.

“You’re stunning, love,” he says. “Do you want to dance with me?”

You reach out and take his hand, and Tom feels a jolt of warmth trail up his spine. It confuses him. He’s pursued a lot of girls in his life, and he’s felt attraction plenty of times before, but he’s never had his heart ache quite like that from just one touch. As you run your thumb over the back of his hand, you look up at him from beneath your lashes.

“A dance? With the president of the frat?” you tease. As Tom chuckles, you smile cheekily. “I dunno. What can you give me in return, if I give you what you want?”

“Oh, a businesswoman,” he teases. “I see how it is.”

You smirk. “Business major,” you supply.

Tom arches his brows. “I’m a business major.”

“I know. We’re in the same class.”

For a few minutes, you slip into conversation about your course. Tom learns that you share the same 9am every Monday morning—a class that he only managed to make it to the first week of term. You don’t linger on the topic of academics for too long, though. It doesn’t take much before Tom’s got you in the back corner of the room where it’s quieter, listening to you reel off your first impressions of the frat. You keep your hands on his shoulders, slowly but purposefully rolling your fingers over his shirt, keeping him on his feet as he catches a whiff of your peach perfume every time you move closer.

He almost gets his dance, but then there’s a tap on his shoulder, and it’s one of his brothers, whispering about an incident on the patio involving a table and the pool. Tom grimaces and reluctantly casts his eyes back to you.

“I need to go and sort this out,” he mutters, frustrated. You shrug, biting your lip as you rock back on your heels. “Will I see you later?”

“I don’t know. Will you?”

Tom smiles. “I will,” he promises. Wanting to give a lasting impression, he easily swoops his hand up to cup your cheek. When he receives a nod of approval, he leans in and deposits a lingering kiss to your forehead, inhaling a deep breath of your shampoo and feeling the tip of his nose tingle in response. You cling to his arms a little tighter, and when Tom goes to pull away, he isn’t able to until you’ve kissed his cheek.

“Have fun,” you say, stepping back.

“Thanks, darling.” Tom gives you a final look, his insides debating whether or not he really needs to go deal with the issue. When there’s a loud shout from out on the patio, he sighs. “Take care.”

Even when he’s out on the terrace, you stay on Tom’s mind. As he oversees two of the guys pulling the table out of the pool, he replays his interaction, mind swirling over your face, your figure, your voice. He finds himself scratching at his chin, not entirely present. After a while, he ends up back in the house, huddled with a group of the guys, and it isn’t until someone pushes Harrison forward that Tom truly comes back into the room.

“How long has it been, man?” Jacob, one of the guys, and one of Tom’s American friends, is grinning at Harrison. The man is standing in the middle of the group, bashful cheeks a light pink.

“Eh… a couple weeks,” Harrison supplies.

“Bullshit,” Tom adds, chuckling when Harrison flips him off. “Haz hasn’t got laid in months.”

“Fuck off,” Harrison mutters. “Not all of us are as...promiscuous as you, Tom.”

Tom shrugs. “Well, what are you going to do about it?”

Harrison pauses, stroking his chin. “Dunno,” he finally decides.

Tom rolls his eyes. “We’ll wingman you,” he decides. He looks around at a few of the other guys and doesn’t stop until they’re all nodding and making similar sounds of agreement. “Anyone you like the look of tonight?”

Haz hesitates but eventually shakes his head. “Nah. Haven’t seen who’s around.”

“Alright.” Tom presses his palms together, an idea forming. “Next girl that walks into the room, we’ll set you up with.”

Harrison hesitates. “But what if she’s taken?”

Jacob steps forward, smirking. “The next single girl who walks into this room,” he clarifies. He holds out a hand and raises a brow. “Bet?”

Harrison looks down at Jacob’s hand. A bet, like the one he’s referring to, may as well be as binding as a contract. There’s no going back. He looks to Tom, a little nervous, but the fear vanishes when Tom nods.

“Alright.” Harrison does the frat handshake, and the guys around them all holler. Tom makes his own loud sound of support, grinning widely. “We’ll do it.”

They have to wait for a while. The first few girls that walk in are all accompanied by partners. Tom’s starting to get tetchy and he knows Harrison is too, but as soon as that thought crosses his mind, the universe decides to throw a curveball right into his face.

You walk in.

“Oh, shit,” Jacob says. He elbows Harrison. “There you go.”

Harrison immediately looks at Tom. “Uh… Isn’t she…?”

Tom sucks in a hard breath, the sound sticking behind his teeth. “Yep.” He looks at Harrison, who’s looking particularly deflated.

For a moment, Tom thinks about Haz and everything that he’s done to support him. Harrison flew across oceans to stay with Tom, moved into the frat with him, operates as his right-hand man. He’s his golf buddy, his gym partner, his best mate. For Haz to go back on such a public bet would be the same as resigning himself to social humiliation, and Tom would be a terrible friend for making him do that. Tom can give him this.

Right?

“I don’t need to—”

“Nah.” Tom decides to step up. “It’s a bet. It’s fine.”

Harrison grimaces. “Are you sure?”

Tom feels like a petulant child. Now he’s agreed to it, he feels his stomach rebelling. You find yourself at the centre of his attention again as he looks back over, instantly regretting it as the action connects your eyes with his. His breathing catches as your lips pull into an eager smile.

But Tom pushes through it. He looks away and stares at the floor as he nods, strengthening his attitude as he reaches out to smack Harrison on the back.

“Yep. Go for it.”

“Thanks, bro.”

He can barely watch as his guys approach you, and Tom decides to stay back in the corner of the room. It’s clear that you’re confused at first, but through quick discreet glances, Tom watches as you start to talk with Harrison. When Tom gets approached by another girl, you start to speak with Haz more freely, and he assumes that you’ve forgotten all about your conversation from earlier. When Jacob and the others split off, leaving you and Harrison alone in the back corner, Tom has to leave the room.

For a while, Tom drinks. He does a couple of shots out on the patio and chats with a few girls, and eventually, he’s pulled back inside the house. He ends up in the large living room, where the main party is happening, and it seems that you and Harrison have taken it to the next level in his absence.

Tom’s lips curve into a scowl as he looks across the room and sees you, wrapped up in Harrison. The blond’s hands roam all over you, moving from your cheeks, shifting back into your hair before curving down your figure. Tom can barely keep watching as Harrison’s palms curl around your waist and go down to squeeze your ass, and he swears he can almost hear the breathless moan you deposit into the air in response.

He looks away when Harrison starts to nibble at your neck and you toss your head back in pleasure, but Tom can’t stop himself from stealing quick glances every few seconds. In the pit of his stomach lies a terrible beast, acidic and possessive, clawing at his heart. There’s a tenseness to his jaw that he can’t quite shake, even when Tom tosses the remnants of the shit beer down his throat. There are easily a hundred people in the room with him, but he doesn’t care about a single one of them. The only one he cares about is you.

After a few moments of his eyes dissecting the contours of your face, Tom feels someone wrap their arms around his waist. He stiffens, turning his head and looking around until he finds himself staring at the face of a girl from his accounting course. She’s pretty, wearing silver eyeshadow, and Tom thinks that her name is Sasha.

“Hey, Tommy,” she greets. Her perfume smells overpowering and it makes Tom grimace. “Wanna dance with me?”

Tom looks back across the room, his stomach turning as he sees Harrison has pulled you down onto a sofa with him. As you straddle his lips and continue to kiss him, his blood runs hot.

“Fuck yeah, darling,” he mutters. Tom reaches out and wraps an arm around the girl, pulling her closer and letting his eyes fall shut as her lips find their way to his neck. “Let’s dance.”

He doesn’t need you. He barely fucking knows you. Tom has met a thousand girls, and it feels as though he’s kissed as many. The only things he knows about you are inconsequential—who cares if you smell like peaches and wear a glossy lip balm? Who gives a fuck that your voice sounds like a pretty wind-chime. Not Tom, that’s for sure. Tom’s got another girl kissing him and tugging on his hair. He doesn’t need you.

So why can’t he stop thinking about you?

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The pillow that Tom has wedged over his head makes his ears ache and does nothing to obscure the sounds drifting into his room, so after a few moments of failed silence, he throws it aside. A loud huff passes by his lips.

It’s been a month since the party, and every Sunday morning since, without fail, he’s been woken by the sounds of your moans. Harrison’s room is right next door, and though he’d always complained to Tom that the walls are thin, Tom had never been the one on the receiving end like this. It’s always been Tom having lazy post-party sex with a random girl, or Tom taking a girl into the shower room and locking out his brothers all morning. Now it’s Harrison, making noise with you, and suddenly it’s not just the fact that he’s not had sex in four weeks that’s getting on his nerves.

Your moans are loud as they catch in the back of your throat, and they make Tom hard. He grumbles as he reaches down, hands dipping beneath the covers as he pushes a palm beneath his boxers. A softened groan passes past his lips as he pulls out his cock, pausing only to bring his hand back to his lips and spit on it before he starts to jerk off.

Tom had gotten over the guilt of getting off to you without your knowledge two weeks ago. For all he knows, you know that he can hear you, and you’re being so loud for him. He’s learnt that you’re cheeky like that, and the thought makes Tom tug his cock a little harder. Harrison’s bed is squeaky, and he can only imagine that you’re riding him. Tom bites back a moan as he imagines how pretty you must look on top.

He’s spent more time with you now, since that party, and it hasn’t helped his predicament at all. Every time he runs into you, you seem to grow hotter, and his attraction for you only burns brighter when he sees Haz grab your hand or kiss your lips. What had started as a bet for one night together has escalated, and now you’re both dating. Tom doesn’t think that he’s a bad person, nor would he ever say he’s a bad friend, but you’ve become his forbidden fruit.

Maybe it’s the fact that he can’t have you that makes Tom so incensed. He’s never been denied like this—been blocked so unscrupulously and irritatingly. Whilst you aren’t official with Harrison, Tom knows that his mate likes you. Hell, he can hear how much he likes you, right now, as Haz’s bed continues to squeak and your moans rise in volume.

Tom thinks he could get you to moan louder.

It takes an embarrassing two-minute window before Tom’s biting back a yell of your name, cumming in sync with a set of particularly loud whines that you emit next-door. He falls back onto the mattress, his clean hand going up to card through his curls as he tries to catch his breath. For a few moments, he lays there, scowling up at the ceiling as he tries to bathe in the afterglow of release, but it goes crashing down again when he hears your light giggles followed by Harrison’s deep guffaws.

Tom practically storms out of bed, wiping at his hand with some tissues before he stamps into a pair of grey joggers and leaves his room, slamming the door loudly in his wake. He hopes the sound scares Harrison so much he falls off his fucking bed.

The bad mood continues, even after Tom’s leapt through the shower and scrubbed at his ears. He ends up in the frat’s kitchen, the wide space still partially littered with solo cups and discarded bags of crisps from the party the night before. There are a few junior members of the frat hobbling around with black bin bags, looking pale and peaky. When they see Tom, they try and pretend they’re not hungover, and their act of skittish admiration is enough to make him feel a little better.

He’s just starting to assemble a protein shake when the air in the kitchen changes. Tom finds his eyes drifting towards the door, just in time to watch you walk in. The sun seems to follow you as you stroll into the kitchen, one hand at your side as the other plays with the tips of your hair, a relaxed smile on your face. As you look around the room and take stock of the several fratboys sitting on random pieces of furniture, your smile draws shyer, and Tom watches you glance down at your feet as you hurry towards the counters to where he is. You catch his eye, a blinding smile unfurling across your lips as you raise a hand in greeting.

As you sweep close, Tom blinks himself out of his stupor. He swallows down the lump in his throat as he steps forward to kiss your cheek, his hands falling onto your shoulders. When you step away, he takes in your outfit. Your legs are mostly bare, but you’re in a pair of shorts with an oversized grey t-shirt slouched on top of you. Tom’s eager eyes dip down, caressing your chest until they find the pointed tips of your nipples, straining against the fabric.

He clears his throat as he feels his cock prick to life.

“Morning, darling,” he manages, immediately turning around and facing the counter. He uses the smoothie as a pretence, but really he doesn’t want you to see the building bulge between his legs.

You seem to be oblivious, and Tom sucks in a breath as you step close. You place your chin on his shoulder and peer over it, comfortably leaning into him, and he swears he can feel your tits brushing up against his bare spine.

“Morning, Tom,” you greet, voice raspy and pure. “How’s your hangover?”

Tom chuckles, focusing very intently on ignoring the way your minty breath fans out across his cheek. You’ve got your arms wrapped loosely around him, hugging him easily and comfortably. He’d never complain that you’re at ease around him, but it doesn’t help his boner.

“Fine,” he responds, playing it cool. “I’m a pro at this, darling. Can’t remember the last time I had a hangover.”

You snort, and despite the loud volume, Tom thinks it’s a beautiful sound.

“You’re so fucking cocky,” you murmur, voice vibrating straight into his ear. “I feel like I’m going to die. Head’s killing me.”

Tom coos. He spends a moment violently mixing some green protein powder into the rest of his smoothie, then reaches up and rummages through a cupboard. When he procures a packet of painkillers, you release a deep sound of relief and finally step back.

“There you go, love,” he mutters. He makes sure to brush your hand with his as he passes it to you, smirking slightly when you jump. A lot of the time, Tom thinks his attraction to you is one-sided, but then something like this happens and casts doubt on that assessment. Neither of you has mentioned the night that you met, and sometimes he wonders if he should bring it up.

Tired and slightly delirious, Tom decides to test the waters. Just for fun, because he can, and because he likes the thought of making you flustered. He knows that his reputation precedes him and that you probably buy into the idea that he’s a flirt as much as everyone else does. If you respond badly, he’ll just blame it on his naturally charming disposition, and if Haz takes issue with it, well… Tom will just bring up the many red marks on his ledger.

“Thanks, Tom,” you say. He watches you rummage through a cupboard and pull out a glass, and his eyes follow your legs as you lean over the sink to get water and the hem of the shirt rides up.

“You know you’re fucking stunning, yeah?” Tom says before he can second-guess his plan.

You freeze, the waterline in your glass threatening to spill as you try to process his words. When you look back, there’s an expression of curious bewilderment on your face.

“What?”

Tom, his boner finally soft again, turns around to face you properly. He brings his arms over his chest, smirking wider as he watches you look at the curves of his biceps. He’s shirtless, and he knows the hours he’s spent in the yard doing weights with Haz shows in the firm definition of his abs and pecs. You seem to enjoy looking at him.

“You look hot.” Tom watches your face very carefully, not wanting to cross too many lines. “I bet Harrison told you that though, this morning.”

Something shifts on your face, and you bite your lip. “Well…”

“Well?”

“Harrison doesn’t say much in the mornings. Or, well, ever.” You pause, a deep line carving between your troubled brows. “He isn’t very vocal.”

Tom hums, stepping a little closer. “Harrison is good at a lot of things, but he has certain shortcomings.”

You lick your lower lip, and Tom’s gaze lingers on the glistening trail of your saliva.

“Like what?”

Tom makes a non-committal noise and pauses to take a sip of his smoothie.

“Well, you know. He’s very intense. He doesn’t always see what’s right in front of him.”

You raise an amused eyebrow. “Aren’t you supposed to be friends?”

“We are. He’s my best mate. But that doesn’t mean I can’t criticise him for acting carelessly.” Tom drops his voice, letting you see the way he checks you out. “I just think that he doesn’t appreciate how lucky he is sometimes.”

You turn away, breaking eye contact as you take your pills. As you hum a soft tune, you pick up the kettle and fill it up, only looking back to Tom when it’s been plugged in and starting to boil.

“Alright, I’ll bite,” you reply, voice curious. You step closer until you’re standing in front of Tom, your eyes again going to his bare chest. “What does Harrison have that you don’t think he appreciates enough?” The suggestive look in your eyes matches the seductive inflexion in your voice, and Tom feels a shiver pass down his spine.

He plays it off coolly, shrugging slightly. “I’m just saying, darling, that if I had the honour of waking up beside someone as beautiful as you, I wouldn’t let you out of my sights all morning.” Tom reaches out slowly, gently letting his fingers bridge the gap between you as he toys with the hem of your shirt. You move closer, subtly encouraging him to continue, so Tom lets his hands shift up to hold your waist, feeling your curious eyes on him the whole time. “What was he thinking, eh? Letting such a lovely lady leave his bed. Crazy.”

You chuckle, a bashful smile on your face as you gnaw your lower lip. “Well, he wanted tea.”

Tom hums. “And I think that that’s bullshit.” He pauses suddenly, eyebrows raising as he finally looks away from your face and finds his gaze sticking on an emblem branded to your big t-shirt. A deep chuckle vibrates through his chest. Of fucking course. “You know what this is, love?” he asks, tugging at your shirt. When you shake your head, he grins. “Boyfriend material.”

Your reaction is immediate: soft frown, arched brows, confused stare.

“Harrison is not my boyfriend,” you say.

Tom clicks his tongue. “Never said he was.” He rolls his hands up your sides, gently caressing your warm figure. Though he wants to run his palms higher to your chest, he stops himself. “This is my shirt, babe. Laundry gets them mixed up all the time, but it’s mine.”

Your lips part and you look between Tom and your shirt with horror in your eyes. “Oh, fuck,” you murmur. Immediately, your hands fly down to the hem. “Do you want me to take it off?”

He shakes his head. “Nah,” he says. “As much as I’m sure I’d like that, there are too many other people in here.” He feels jealous again just thinking about it.

You nod, pausing the movement after a second as your eyes narrow. “Wait, how do you even know? It’s just a plain t-shirt?”

“What, you think I’m making this up?” Tom’s smirking again, and it widens as you fluster. “‘S alright, love.” He reaches up and points at the emblem which marks an event from rush week last year. “Logo,” he states. “And… I think you’ll find if we take a look at the label on the back, it’s got my name on it.”

You let him manhandle you, melting back into his hold as Tom stands forward and turns you around. He brushes your hair out of the way and reaches up, gracing his fingers over your spine as he delicately pulls out the back label. You won’t be able to see it, but it fills him with smugness to see his initials stained stark against the label: TSH.

“Well… I’m sorry, anyway.” Your voice is hoarse, light and feathery as if you’re holding your breath. Tom lets his hand rest on your shoulder after he’s tucked the label back. He’d move away, but you’re leaning into him completely, your hands grasping at the palm that he has curled around your stomach. “I promise it won’t happen again.”

Tom leans down, and in a bold move, very gently kisses the base of your neck. Your skin is soft and warm beneath his lips, and the breathless gasp you release is just as sweet.

“It’s okay,” he rumbles. He pauses, eyes fluttering shut as he inhales your peachy scent. “Feel free to use it any time you’d like.”

Not wanting to push too hard, Tom leaves a final, wetter kiss to the bottom of your neck before moving back, unwrapping his arm from around your waist and repositioning his hands back on the counter. He leans against the wooden cabinets, wondering if you’d been able to feel his hard-on that’d peskily bounced back when he’d heard your whimper.

If you feel anything, you don’t say anything. In fact, you’re quiet as you step to the side and pour out the boiled water into two mugs. “Thanks,” you say, speaking through the steam. You glance back to Tom, and he swears your eyes are darker. “It’s soft.”

Tom sips his smoothie, eyeing you over the brim as you poke at a tea bag with a metal teaspoon.

“Fabric softener,” he says, nodding slightly. His brain is running slow, still caught up on how nice it’d felt to kiss your neck. “It suits you.”

You throw him another shy smile. “How does Haz take his tea again? No sugar, yeah?”

Tom bites his lip. “Wrong,” he lies. “Haz likes three sugars. Don’t be afraid to put in a little more, though.”

You eye him sceptically. “I don’t think that’s right.”

“He is my best friend, love,” Tom says. He hides his mischievous grin behind his smoothie, and he watches you roll your eyes. “Listen, if he’s got a problem with it, he can take it up with me or he can come and make his own cup of sodding tea. Lazy bastard.”

You snort, and Tom feels his stomach turn as he watches you spoon three teaspoons into Haz’s mug.

“Well, I’ll let you know what he says,” you mutter. Finally, you pick up the mugs in your hands and walk forward, pausing in front of Tom. Your eyes skim his figure again, briefly zeroing in on his chest before caressing the fine lines of his lips. “Thanks for keeping me company. This was fun.”

Tom nods and steps forward to kiss your cheek. He hopes you can feel how desperately he wants to press his lips to yours.

“Any time, darling,” he assures. “If you ever need anything, you know where I am, yeah?” He lets his teeth brush your earlobe as he pulls back slowly, smiling to himself when he sees you shiver.

“Yeah,” you murmur. You swallow deeply, and your eyes hold his gaze for one moment longer before you tear them away. “Have a nice morning, Tom.”

Tom watches you walk across the kitchen, almost stumbling when you get distracted trying to look over your shoulder back at him. He smirks, raising a few fingers in a lazy wave.

“See ya!” he calls back.

His blood doesn’t stop pumping until you’re all the way out of sight, and even after that, he knows the only way he’ll be able to properly shake you is by attending to his hard-on. Again.

You’re like a shadow that won’t stop chasing him.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The party is in full swing, and Tom feels like a king.

There are several benefits to parading the title of president of the frat. Tom gets the largest room in the house, along with an ensuite. He’s able to prioritise himself on the gym schedule and the cleaning rota. Every party, he’s looked up to, treated like royalty, his every wish and command carried out by his brothers. If he doesn’t like a song, it’s changed. All it takes is one arched brow in the direction of a partygoer, and they’re ejected from the house. The beer is his favourite make, and everyone loves him.

Tom has the whole world in his hands, which is why it’s incredibly infuriating that his kingdom tonight isn’t ordered how he’d like it.

It’s two months into the semester, and the buzz that’d characterised earlier parties has faded. Finals are coming up soon, so maybe that’s why Tom feels unsettled. Or, maybe it’s the fact that the music isn’t hitting quite as well as usual. It could be that he hasn’t tied his shoes as tightly as he normally does, or maybe that the vibe within the house is just...off.

But Tom knows exactly what the problem is if he brings himself to think about it. He’s tried drowning his ugly feelings in cheap beer, but there’s no denying it: his mood had taken a significant plummet when he’d glanced across the room and seen Harrison with his hands all over you, your lips locked together. The shard of jealousy that had lodged itself in the warm precipice of his heart is unshakeable, and there’s a horrible bitter taste on his tongue.

Tom is so fucking jealous that he’s about two seconds away from pointing at the couple and getting someone to kick you out.

“Bro. Bro. The fuck is wrong with you, man?”

It’s probably a good thing that Tom’s been interrupted, as he’s fairly sure there’s enough poison in his gaze to burn off a large patch of Harrison’s hair. He shakes a grimace over his lips as he looks to the side, eyes falling to his friend, Jacob. Jacob’s in a loose Hawaiian shirt, the red and white pattern glowing under the luminescence of the UV lights.

“What?” Tom says, playing it cool. He takes another drink, shuddering slightly as he lets the alcohol ease him.

“You look like you want to beat someone up.” Jacob squints, trying to look in the direction that Tom knows he’d been staring in. “I only see Haz. Are you guys, like… Good?”

Tom releases a short bark. “‘Course, man,” he says, voice lifting lighter. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

Jacob scoffs. It’s loud in the crowded living room, but Tom can feel the undertones. “Uh, we all know about the bet. We all also know that you’d had your eyes on Y/N before Haz pulled her.” He pauses, wiggling his brows until Tom punches his arm and scowls. “I’m just sayin’... Seems like you have some unresolved shit going on.”

Tom doesn’t deem him with a response, not knowing where to start with that. It’s Saturday night. The last thing he wants to do is talk about this. He already drives himself mad every other day of the week as he ponders this particular puzzle.

“We need to get the energy up,” Tom mutters. He spins around, beckoning over a few of his friends with his hands. Someone gives him a shot, and he downs it before looking back at Jacob. “We’ll do a game or something. Get people. We’ll do it on the patio.”

Ten minutes later, there’s an assembly of partygoers on the terrace at the back of the house. It’s a mix of sorority girls, jocks, and fratbros, but Tom doesn’t pay them much attention as he claims his spot on a rickety canvas camping chair and sits back. He lets Jacob take the lead, doing another two shots when he sees you and Haz join the circle.

You’re in a black dress tonight, the material skimming just above your knees. As you walk out onto the patio, the midnight breeze swishes the hem up a little, and Tom watches as you giggle and drop Haz’s hand to smooth it down. Harrison presses an easy kiss to your cheek, and the smile on your face builds. It freezes when you spot Tom, your eyes darkening as your teeth dig into the pink flesh of your lower lip. Tom raises a brow, watching you stand a little straighter as your gaze runs over his form, lingering on the golden chain he’d pulled on earlier.

The spell breaks when Harrison sits on a chair and tugs you down with him, an expression of irritation briefly souring your angelic face before you smooth it back. Tom doesn’t look away until Jacob starts to speak.

“Spin the bottle,” Jacob announces, looking around at each person. There are a few groans, but they’re drowned out by the cheers. Tom just rolls his eyes, sitting back and briefly surveying the circle. He’s pretty sure he’s pulled at least five of the girls already, and the rest of them seem fine, too. Obviously, there’s only one person he’d want the spin to land on, but he’s already accepted that the universe isn’t on his side when it comes to you.

A few rounds pass. Tom isn’t really paying attention until the neck of the bottle lands on him and he has to kiss a girl from his psychology class. It’s a quick kiss, and her lip gloss makes his mouth tingle, but Tom only realises how hammered he is when he has to sit up from his chair and lean over to spin the bottle.

Tom looks around the circle as his fingers ponder the glass, grasping the attention of the group like he’s holding court. He looks at you and finds you looking at him, your lower lip held between your teeth as Harrison rubs your arm. Haz has you in his lap, your legs thrown across his thighs as you sit on him sideways. Harrison’s blond curls rest up against the side of your face, and Tom has to look away as he grimaces.

The bottle spins. It clatters quickly over the paving stone, hurtling with an angry force that Tom hadn’t entirely intended to use. He holds his breath, his eyes widening as it stops. Pointing at you.

“Looks like that’s Y/N,” Jacob announces.

Tom sits back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks at Harrison. His mate’s eyes have lost their charm, a deep frown settled on his face. Tom thinks he looks exactly like the tough-faced models from Vogue with that mardy scowl on his face. He raises a brow, as if to say, up to you, and watches as you turn in Harrison’s lap and whisper something into his ear.

A moment passes, and Tom’s surprised when Haz nods and pushes you up from his lap. He meets Tom’s eyes, giving him another smaller nod, and Tom sits back, pleasantly resigned to the fact that Harrison isn’t going to ruin the game.

“Hi,” you greet as you approach him, smiling.

Tom reaches out, offering you his hands as you finish treading over the collection of limbs and shoes that crowd the patio. Your fingers are so soft in his.

“Hi, darling,” he responds. Tom feels hot, everywhere, and he hopes his cheeks aren’t as red as they feel. “You look stunning,” he adds, voice quieter.

“Thanks.”

You hesitate, eyeing him up and down as if trying to assess the best way to kiss him. The girl he’d just kissed had bent over to press her lips to his, and as Tom remembers this, he drops one of your hands and reaches up and wipes his mouth again, trying to eradicate all traces of her lips. When he’s achieved this, he tentatively reaches up and presses the palm to your waist. Respectfully, of course. There are a lot of people watching.

You seem to be less reluctant to indulge, and Tom feels his eyes widen as you step forward and sink into his lap, your knees bending as you press your shins into the canvas of the camping chair on either side of Tom’s thighs. Suddenly your face is hanging in front of his, warm breath coming out over his face, and Tom has just enough time to wonder why your breath smells of pineapples before you’re leaning in.

He kisses you, and for a few seconds, he’s frozen. Everything that he’s learnt at the frat and over the course of his college life goes flying out the window, and he’s left feeling like a kid again. The background noise filters out, and all he can focus on is the weight of your body pressing into his legs and the feeling of your lips, soft and silky, moving over his. When you reach up to weave a hand into his hair, he comes back around, the roar of the party filling his ears as an adrenaline rush floods his chest.

Tom knows this will probably be his only chance to kiss you, so he leaves nothing behind. He brings both hands to your waist, urging you closer as he recovers his charm and kisses you properly. His tongue works into your open mouth, pressing against you and exploring the sweet space of your lips as you moan into him. He feels your fingers drift down, one of your hands staying bedded in his curls as the other plays with his chain. Never before has Tom felt so consumed by a kiss, and if the circumstances were different, he wouldn’t hesitate to reach around and grab handfuls of your skin, wouldn’t hold back his kisses, or his moans, or his coos of praising endearment. He’d give you everything.

When you pull back, your nose brushes up against his, and it feels like the two of you are the only ones in the world.

“How was that?” you ask, voice quiet. There’s a shyness to your disposition, a nervousness as you meet his eyes.

Tom reaches up, holding your cheek and brushing his thumb across your chin. He tidies up your smudged lipstick as he squeezes your waist.

“Perfect,” he replies, voice low. He can feel Harrison staring at him, but he doesn’t give a fuck. “You’re… You’re incredible, darling.”

You sit a little taller, looking proud of yourself. “Well, now I understand what all the hype is about,” you mutter. “You’re a good kisser. A really good kisser.” You pause as a shiver works its way down your spine, and Tom glances at your bare arms.

“Here,” he mutters. When you stand from his lap, he’s glad his jeans have some wiggle room so his raging boner is less obvious. Tom’s quick to shrug off his jacket, and he passes it up to you without a second thought. “Don’t freeze,” he says, wagging a finger at you.

“Tom, I couldn’t—”

“Yeah, you can.”

You bite your lip. “Won’t you be cold?”

Tom just flexes his biceps, smirking again as he sees you checking out his muscles. “Got these bad boys to keep me warm,” he teases, pointing at his guns. He softens, just for a moment. “It’s fine. Said you could always use my stuff, didn’t I?”

You look flustered, opening and then immediately closing your mouth before turning around and making your way back over to Harrison. Tom sits back in his chair, trying halfheartedly to suppress the smirk that continues to hold his lips as he admires how nice his jacket looks draped loosely across your shoulders. You always wear his clothes so well.

Tom looks at Jacob, who shakes his head in response. Then he looks at Harrison, and he can’t stop himself from laughing. Harrison’s a shade of salmon pink, and it only softens out a little bit when you settle back into his lap and kiss his cheek. Tom watches Harrison flip him off then pull you closer and kiss you harshly, and messily. You don’t seem as into it as you’d been with Tom, he realises. You’re holding back, grimacing slightly as Harrison pulls back a triumphant moment later.

The game concludes a while later, but Tom stays out on the patio, feeling dizzier by the second. The camping chair is comfortable, and the chill in the air helps him feel soberer. Whilst Tom doesn’t regret the multiple cups of beer and several shots, he does consider that he might’ve gone a little too far in his efforts to forget about you.

You’re gone, now. Out of sight, back in the party. Tom’s making light conversation with a few of the guys still left in the circle, but they clear out when a shadowy presence falls across the patio. It doesn’t take long for Tom to realise it’s Harrison, and he tries his best to sit up straight and look less smug as Harrison drags a chair over and places it opposite Tom.

Harrison stares at him, hard. He’s in a matching snapback and a loose white t-shirt, his ring glinting as he crosses his fingers and examines Tom’s face.

“So…” Tom starts, disliking how charged the air is. “Y’alright, Haz?”

“Shut the fuck up, Tom,” Harrison says instead. When Tom pulls a face, he sharpens his gaze. “What’s wrong with you?”

Tom chuckles. He’s feeling drunk and annoying. “Well, that’s a bit of an unspecific question, Harrison. There are many things that you might say are wrong with me—”

“You know what I’m talking about.” Harrison breaks off, sighing loudly as he flops back in his chair and runs a hand through his hair. He looks smaller, nervous. “Do you have a thing for my girl?”

Instinctively, Tom shakes his head. “Y/N?” he says dumbly. When Harrison nods, Tom hums. “Is she your girl?”

Harrison flounders for a moment. “I mean… Technically no, but we’ve been hooking up for two months.” He pauses, grimacing. “Look, mate. I know I fucked it when we met her. I knew you wanted her, and I still took on the bet. But I really fucking like her now, and… And…”

“And?”

“If you decide that you want her, you’ll get her. You always do.” Harrison grumbles as he crosses his arms. “Can I not have one thing? Just one.”

“You do know that Y/N is perfectly capable of making her own decisions, yeah?” Tom says, only slurring slightly.

“Oh, yeah. Of course, of course.” Harrison’s bobbing his head almost comically. “But still… Do you know what I mean?”

Tom closes his eyes for a few moments, the patio spinning. He speaks through gritted teeth. “Haz, I love you, man. You know what I’m like. I’m a flirt.” He cracks open an eye and gives Harrison a dopey smile, and the next words he speaks are the truth. “I wouldn’t seriously try to steal your girl, alright? I wouldn’t sleep with her if you guys have a thing. We were just playing the game.”

Harrison releases a deep breath. “Thanks, man, I—”

“Wait.” Tom feels bolder. “You do need to tell her, though.”

“Tell her what?”

Tom narrows his eyes. “You know what,” he says, speaking to a very sheepish-looking Harrison. “She’d want to know that your relationship is built from a bet. If you… If you seriously think that you’re g’nna have a fucking relationship with her, she needs honesty.” Just the thought of you and Harrison going official makes him feel sick.

“No way.” Harrison’s curls go flying as he shakes his head. “Fuck that. Are you mad? She’d break it off.”

Tom grimaces and looks away from Harrison. “I’m just saying,” he mutters. “You shouldn’t lie to the people you care about.”

It’s rich coming from him, but Tom knows that nothing he’s said has been a lie. He won’t sleep with you if you’re still with Haz. Maybe he’d try to break you both up, but he wouldn’t purposefully sleep with someone in a relationship. Logistically, he doesn’t think he’d be able to, even if he wanted to, because despite the tantalising banter he’s able to carry out with you, you’re a good person. You’d never cheat on Harrison.

“Yeah.” Harrison looks guilty now. “I guess.” His eyes shift away from Tom, falling to someone else. Tom startles when he feels two hands come down to rest on his shoulders, and glances down, only relaxing when he recognises the silver rings curled around your fingers.

As if a deity, you’ve appeared, just when Tom was thinking about you. He wonders if it’ll always work like this.

“Hi,” you greet, looking first to Harrison, then Tom. “What are you guys talking about?”

You’re standing behind his chair, perfume light and peachy. When Tom cranes his head back, your perfect face blurs.

“Nothin’,” he murmurs, a sleepy grin on his lips.

You chuckle. “How drunk are you right now?” you ask.

Tom makes a non-committal sound. “I don’t want to stand up and find out,” he admits. “So I’m just going to stay here until I get sober.”

“What if it rains?”

“Well, I guess I’ll get wet.” He reaches back and grabs lightly at his jacket, still covering your upper half. “Some thief ran off with my jacket.”

You snort, then pat his shoulders before walking around to the front of his chair. You offer him your hands, and Tom takes them easily.

“Babe?” Harrison pipes up. “What are you doing?”

With ease, you help Tom up from the chair. He fakes it a little, exaggerating just how woozy he is so that you have to wrap your arms around his waist. He hides his mischievous smirk in the crook of your neck, suppressing his guilt. He wasn’t lying to Harrison—he will stay in his lane. But old habits die hard, and you’re very warm, and he’s very drunk, especially with the blood rushing to his head.

“Putting him to bed,” you respond. “He’s tired.”

Suddenly, Tom finds himself yawning. He leans into you, pouting softly at Harrison as he tries to look as exhausted as possible. He’s always been a convincing actor, and his friend buys it completely.

“Alright,” Harrison says. “Do you need help?”

You shake your head. “Nah,” you respond. “I’ll be fine.” You squeeze Tom’s waist. “He’s just a big teddy bear.”

Tom doesn’t think he likes that (if anything, he’s a lion), but it seems to ease Harrison. The man presses forward, kissing your cheek before giving Tom a firm pat on his shoulder.

“Right, then,” he says. “I’ll be inside.” Harrison glances at Tom, reluctance filling his blue eyes before fading slowly. “Sweet dreams, bro.”

“Thanks, Hazzy.”

“Don’t ever fucking call me that again.”

Tom’s still chuckling as you lead him back inside, and he knows that you’re trying not to giggle too.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tom already knows that you’re cute, but as you help him up the staircase and get him ready for bed, your adorableness really comes through.

“Drink this,” you announce, walking back into his bedroom with a glass of water in your hands. Tom admires the way that you walk, glad he’s already in bed and hiding beneath the covers. Your hair is a little wild, and he knows that’s probably his fault—Tom’s cheeky, and he’s especially persistent when he’s hammered, and he might’ve been a bit mischievous in the bathroom when you’d tried to convince him to brush his teeth, refusing until you’d had to physically push the brush into his mouth. You’d rolled your eyes, and he’d been distracted by watching you in the mirror.

“What is it?” he asks annoyingly. Now Tom is almost naked, clad only in his boxers, and he does a deliberately long stretch of his arms above his head, smirking as the duvet falls down to expose his toned torso.

You roll your eyes again as you sit on the edge of his bed, pushing the glass into his hands. “Water,” you supply. You stare at him, raising a brow. “Probably won’t help with the hangover, but I feel like I need to try.”

Tom takes a few sips, looking at you over the rim of the glass. You look tired, up close. Still glowing, and beautiful, and gorgeous, but tired. Your lipstick is faded, and he can see the shadows of your dark circles peeking through your makeup.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

You glance at him, chuckling shortly before looking down at your hands. You play around with a few of your rings, sighing.

“Just tired,” you respond. You manage a forced smile. “Doesn’t matter.”

He frowns. “It does.” Tom obediently downs the entire glass, wanting to coax a smile to your face. “Why’d you come out if you’re tired?”

“Haz wanted me to.” You bring your eyes back to Tom. “I wanted to come and support you, too.”

Tom blinks. “Me?”

“Yeah.”

“Aww.”

You scrunch up the end of your nose as you stand from his bed, smoothing down your dress with your hands. “Well, I do care about you, Tom. I know there’s a lot of pressure on you to make the parties good.”

Warmth bursts through Tom’s chest. “That’s so cute,” he mutters. He looks up at you, the light being cast from the ceiling light cascading over your shoulders like a halo. “You’re cute.”

“And you’re plastered,” you respond, smiling. You walk closer, running a hand over the top of the duvet until you reach Tom. When you’re standing up by his head, you tentatively reach down to push his shoulders. “Lie down,” you coax. “Bedtime.”

Tom sinks into his mattress with ease, smiling when you gently pick up his head and plump the pillows. You reach down and pull the duvet up to his chin, tucking it in around his chest firmly, your tongue held between your teeth as you go. You’re very attentive, and the sight of you looking after him so well doesn’t help his predicament at all.

“Thanks, darling,” Tom murmurs. He sighs contentedly. “So comfy,” he whines. “Why don’t you stay with me if you’re tired?” He cracks open an eye just in time to see the expression of shock on your face fade to one of amusement.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you respond. “Can you imagine how confused you’d be waking up in the morning?”

“Would be a good kind of confusion, though.” Tom rounds out his eyes, trying to look as soft and unassuming as possible. “I’m a great bed partner, babe. I won’t kick you. I’ll give you space. Or, if you want, I’ll cuddle you. I’m great at cuddling people.”

You just laugh, your face vibrant and light. “You’re so funny,” you say. “I wonder if you’ll remember this tomorrow.”

Tom scowls, grumpily snuggling further into bed. “I invite a pretty girl into my bed and she rejects me,” he grumbles. “Your loss, baby.”

“You sound more and more like a fratboy every time we speak.” You stand back, crossing your arms over your chest as you look him up and down. “Right. I left painkillers on the side, and there’s more water too. Sweet dreams, Tom.”

You turn to leave, but Tom makes a noise of objection. You pause, raising a brow in question.

“Goodnight kiss,” Tom begs. “Please?”

You laugh again but step back towards him. You bend over, necklace dangling in Tom’s face as your hands smooth up to rest in his hair. He’s overwhelmed by the scent of your perfume and the close proximity, and for a moment, he thinks you’re going to imitate the breathtaking kiss from earlier. But then you move up. You kiss his forehead, gently, stroking a few strands of his hair as your lips linger against his skin for a moment longer than necessary. When you pull back, Tom has a dumb expression on his face, and he’s glad that you follow up the kiss by turning off his lamp.

“Night, Tom,” you say, walking across the room. There’s a single shard of light, peeking into his room through the open door, and it illuminates your silhouette as you pause there.

“Night, Y/N,” he responds, voice slightly thick.

You gently close the door behind you and leave Tom alone, with nothing but his thoughts and his fantasies to entertain him. He grumbles as he turns over, a very prominent and selfish thought pushing to the front of his mind:

Tom loves Harrison, but he’s fed up. He can’t carry on like this, yearning incessantly. He doesn’t want to stay in his lane, he wants you to be his girl. Desperately.

Tom has to do something. He has to make you his.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You think that whoever scheduled Intro to International Business for 9am on a Monday hates all college students.

It’s dreary as you make the hungover trek to campus. The ache in the front of your skull rattles with each sombre step, and you never get used to the chill of November’s dark mornings despite having plenty of experience with them now. You’re bundled up in a hoodie, a jacket, and a scarf, yet the flecks of grey raindrops still manage to soak you. By the time you reach the lecture theatre, you’re grouchy and regretting ever leaving your bed.

At the time, going to the frat party the night before had seemed like a great idea—Harrison hadn’t stopped blowing up your phone about it all weekend, and you’d felt compelled to keep him company. There were other factors that made you eager to go, too.

It’s all a blur now. Spin the bottle, disrupting Harrison’s tense conversation with Tom, taking the latter upstairs. You think about the sight of Tom bundled up in bed, duvet pulled to his pouting lips, and your entire body bursts into flame, rippling with an unrestrained desire that makes you feel guilty for just existing. You’d been so affected by the events of the night before that you’d had to go home, too overwhelmed to stay with Harrison in the room beside Tom’s.

Most of the seats around you are empty. You’re early despite rolling out of bed after sleeping through your first alarm. As you settle into the back of the theatre, you begrudgingly pull out a pad of paper and a pen, wishing you’d thought to bring sunglasses. This is the class that you supposedly share with Tom and Harrison—also business majors—yet they’ve never made an appearance beyond a half-assed attempt in the first week. Sometimes you wonder how they’re both able to pass a class they never show face in.

“Fuckin’ hell, love. Who the fuck scheduled this so early? They’re taking the piss.”

You startle as a grouchy voice enters your space, and your eyes snap up just in time to see a dark figure drop down into the open seat beside you. The deep navy blue hoodie is pulled above his head, and he immediately crosses his arms, but you know without a doubt who it is.

“Tom?” you ask, voice full of shock. You sit forward, reaching out to place a hand on his arm as you peer at him. When you meet his pale face and see the thick sunglasses covering his eyes, your eyebrows raise. “Since when do you come to class?”

Tom clicks his tongue, lips curving into a smirk. It’s a little disconcerting that you can’t see his eyes, but you can tell they’re dark and seductive. They always are.

“What d’you mean?” he teases. “I’m always here.”

“As if.”

He shrugs and breaks off for a moment to yawn. “Thought I should start being a good student, ‘n all,” he mutters. “Finals next month, and everything.”

“And how’s your hangover?”

Tom pulls a face. All of a sudden, he leans over, rummaging through his bag with loud actions until he procures a bottle of water and a bag of mixed nuts. When he sits back up, he pushes down his hood and jerks off his sunglasses, exposing the damage. You wince as you take in the deep bags beneath his eyes and the way his brown irises are marred with red. He still manages to smile, though, and after ripping open his snack, crunches a couple in quick succession.

“I’ll be fine,” he says. “I don’t get hungover, but if I do, it clears pretty fast. I’m built differently.”

You snort. “Yeah right,” you mutter. You find yourself looking at his lips, and briefly, you’re transported to how incredible they felt last night when you’d straddled him and kissed him. Quick to shake that off, you find yourself blinking as you stare at him. “You were trashed last night. I had to take you to bed. Do you remember?”

Tom gives a hapless shrug, not quite looking into your eyes. You wonder, not for the first time, what thoughts are running through his mind. He confuses you immensely.

The night you’d met, you’d been convinced you’d end up sleeping with him. He’d swaggered over to you, dripping charm, looking incredibly hot in an all-black ensemble, chain, and cap, then he’d kissed your forehead and promised to see you later. Just, you hadn’t seen him later—instead, his friends had not-so-subtly set you up with Harrison as Tom had stood across the room, watching. A part of you had felt side-lined by him, but Harrison is attractive, so you’d jumped on him the moment you could.

Harrison is nice. He’s kind. Dependable. He’s the kind of boy that you could easily take home to your mother and hear nothing but kind words about. He isn’t always the most attentive, but he’s funny, and he cares for you, so it’s fine.

Tom is… Tom is an entirely different ballpark. There are no words to describe Tom Holland. You’d thought you knew enough about him before meeting him at the party, but the man you’ve come to know since doesn’t match up to the reputation that surrounds him. Tom is cheeky—it’s obvious in his flirtatious jokes, and his lingering touches, and his habit of kissing your cheek every single time he sees you. He’s funny too, but his sense of humour isn’t mean or callous like most of the lads in his house. Beneath the hardy exterior lies someone who genuinely cares, and looks out for the people he loves.

He makes you feel alive, each one of your cells burning and sizzling every time he’s around. Tom makes you feel the pounding rhythm of your heartbeat everywhere—in your ears, in your chest, between your legs. He gives you everything, whilst giving you nothing at all. It’s entirely perplexing.

You need to stop comparing them. It’s not a competition. You’re seeing Harrison, and Tom has no genuine interest in you. You’re friends, and he’s flirty, but that’s it. You’re friends, and you shared the best kiss of your life last night, but that doesn’t mean a thing. It doesn’t matter that Tom fires you up the right way, because it’s one-sided, and you’re with Haz.

Tom ignores your question about the night before and instead tips his bag of nuts towards you.

“Care for a nut?”

You snort as you pick out a cashew, crunching it softly as he watches. Tom’s deep brown eyes linger on your lower lip as you slowly lick the salt from it.

“Delicious,” you say, earning a loud cackle from your companion.

“Dirty girl,” he mutters, grinning wickedly.

“No, you just have your mind in the gutter. Not everything has to be an innuendo, Tom.”

“Wrong. Everything can be and is an innuendo if you try hard enough. You should know this by now, darling. You’ve spent enough time with me.”

“Maybe, but not all of us share your immature sense of humour, Tom.”

He gasps, eyebrows sliding up his forehead in mock shock. “Are you calling me a child?”

“Childish,” you clarify, smirking as he shoots daggers at you. “You’re such a boy.”

Tom sits back, blinking a few times in quick succession before clearing his throat. His eyes seem to darken as he leans in closer, bringing a hand up to rest on your shoulder. His fingers are warm as he pushes the hair from your face and gently tucks it behind your ear, leaning across the seat until he’s able to whisper gently.

“I am not a boy,” he coos, voice soft. “I’ve just never broken out the proper charm on you, darling.”

Your throat runs dry as his hot breath fans out across the side of your face, minty fresh.

“And what is this proper charm?”

Tom opens his mouth to speak, but it fades a moment later. He pulls back, appearing to lose his cool last minute as his cheeks flush.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he mutters instead. He shifts around in his seat, looking back at you for a split-second before glancing away. Tom’s reluctant to meet your eyes, and you watch, confused, as he chugs about half his bottle of water before pulling off his hoodie. He’s still flushed—face warmer and more alive than it’s been all morning.

Your brows furrow as you look at Tom’s shirt. “Hey, is that the one I borrowed the other week?” you ask, speaking before you have time to process the words.

Tom chuckles, regaining his charm as he throws his hoodie on top of his bag and turns to face you, a hand lodging in his hair. It’s longer than it’d been at the start of the semester, a few strands dangling over his forehead.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Smells of you.” Something crosses over Tom’s face, and he flashes you the tips of his pearly teeth as he smirks. “Smells of us, darling.”

Your reaction is immediate and uncontrollable. A hot flush, moving through your entire body, forming in your centre and rolling across your figure from the inside out. You hope that you can play it off by pulling your notebook into your lap. The back of your mouth is dry, but you manage a weak, quipping response of, “you should wash that,” before you spiral too far.

It’s in the small things. His comments. His lingering touches. His smirks. Tom drives you crazy.

The lecture starts, but you don’t pay it much attention. Instead, you stay huddled up in the back with Tom, killing time as he shows you a collection of photos from the night before. After flicking through the snapshots from a very blurry night, Tom moves on to a different folder in his phone, nimble fingers swiping across the screen and showing off some of his favourite memes. You end up almost crying from laughter, clutching to his arm as you bend over in your seat and try to pass by undetected by the notoriously strict professor. Tom’s hand soothes over your back, and you briefly wonder if you should dissolve into laughter more often just so he can bring you back down.

When the class finishes, Tom throws his arm across your shoulders and walks you across campus. It’s only when you’re halfway towards the car park that you realise where he’s taking you.

“Wait— I can walk back home.”

“Nah. It’s fine.”

“It’s out of the way, though.”

Tom squeezes your side. “‘S alright. You’re my best mate’s girl. ‘Least I can do.” He pauses, apparently oblivious to the sour expression you pull in response to those words. “Plus, you looked after me last night, so… I kinda owe you.”

Deciding to just accept it, you hum in agreement. “Okay. Thank you.”

“No problem, love.”

He’s very warm and his cologne smells like a forest breeze. You enjoy strolling across campus with him, especially when he kisses your temple as you separate at his car. It’s a battered old thing, and you’ve been in it a few times before. You’re fairly sure that Haz owns it too, but the way Tom settles into the driver’s seat and keys the ignition makes him look like the proper owner. Tom commands any space he inhabits with poise and elegance.

“You’re out near Sarah, aren’t you?” Tom asks as he jerkily reverses from his parking space.

“Yeah.”

“Nice area,” he comments, which makes you laugh. Tom glances at you, raising a brow. “What?”

“Small talk?”

“Mmm. Well, is there anything else you’d like to talk about, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. Fuck, you can’t handle the way that sounds dripping from his lips.

“Nope.” You stretch your hands out in front of you, yawning. “Too hungover to think.”

“Fair enough.” Tom drums his fingers over the wheel, and you find yourself watching the lines of his slender digits. He has very pretty hands. “Good party though, eh?”

“Oh yeah. Crazy. Did you have fun?”

Tom releases a noise of reluctant agreement. “It was alright. Not the most successful night for me.” He risks a brief glance at you, chuckling. “Isn’t really the best look to get escorted to bed.” You aren’t sure if you should feel guilty for that, but Tom’s quick to add, “not that I don’t appreciate it. I do. I just shouldn’t have been so eager.”

“Why were you?” you ask. “It seemed like you were trying really hard to get drunk. Did something happen?”

Tom cackles, the sound so loud and quivering so precisely that it makes you jump. “God, if you only knew…”

“Eh?”

“Nothing. It was nothing.”

You’re intrigued now. “What?” you press, reaching across the console to pat his thigh. You’re over halfway back to yours now, and like a bloodhound, you want to know answers. “Was it a girl? I’ve not seen you with anyone since… Well, ever.” You furrow your brows. ��Did someone reject you?”

Tom’s face clouds over immediately, and you shift uncomfortably in your seat as you watch his jaw set into a hard line.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he snaps, his easy demeanour gone.

“Woah,” you mutter. “Sorry.”

Tom cards a frustrated hand through his hair, his eyes glinting dark. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. I was not rejected.” The way his voice quivers makes it sound like a lie.

You pull a face as you cross your arms over your chest, your hangover exacerbating your rapidly falling mood.

“Aren’t we friends?” you ask.

He sucks in a fast breath. “Yep,” he replies, speaking through tight lips.

Something has changed. It’s as if you’ve crossed an invisible boundary that you hadn’t seen, tripped a trick wire only visible to him. The air between you is thick, and Tom doesn’t say another word until he’s turned down your street and pulled into a space outside your house.

“Well… Thanks, I guess,” you mutter. You reach into the footwell and pull up your bag, your eyebrows furrowed as you turn back to face him. For a few moments you bounce between jumping out of the car or staying, but you hate leaving things tense like this. Not with him. “Are we… good?”

Tom turns off the engine. For a moment he stares at his hands on the steering wheel, but then he brings his gaze up to you. His eyes are sad and raw, and it makes your heart hurt.

“We’re fine, Y/N,” he says, voice softer. “Sorry. It’s the, uh… The hangover. Makin’ me act like a twat. I’m sorry.”

You release a sigh of relief. “It’s okay, Tom.” A light chuckle slips by your lips. “I was worried I pissed you off for a moment there.”

Tom’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You? Never, darling.” He drums his hands over his thighs, and you remember the circumstances.

“Oh, sorry. I’ll get out of your hair,” you say. You hasten to undo your seatbelt and reach towards the car door, only to pause when Tom reaches out suddenly to touch your arm. “Yeah?”

“I, uh…” Tom’s close, leaning over the console. Your eyes drift over the freckles of his face, and you get distracted by how warm his brown orbs are, like glinting pools of honey. “I really am sorry,” he adds. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

You tilt your head to the side. “It’s fine.” You glance down to where he’s softly caressing your arm, his eyes fixed firmly on your skin. His hand feels nice. Soothing. He soothes you. He always does. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Tom nods. “Yeah. I’m great.”

You don’t quite believe him, but you’re willing to accept that the hangover has knocked him.

“Well, thank you,” you say. You turn back to face him. “For the lift. And the nuts.”

Tom finally smiles again, and the sight makes your heart soar. “No worries, babe,” he says. He winks. “Any time.”

You lean over the console and kiss his cheek, your mouth hitting a spot of skin closer to his lips than the side of his face. If Tom notices how flustered it makes you, he doesn’t say a thing. You’re still shaking as you pull your bag over your back and hobble from the car, shouting back a tight, “bye!”

Tom raises his hand through the open window and winks again as he pulls away from the curb, leaving your body throbbing persistently and your heart more confused than it’s ever been.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Two weeks pass. You don’t see Harrison much, but Tom continues to come to class. Life goes on, nothing unchanged, and finals come and go with ease. Before you know it, it’s the final mixer of the semester.

Harrison’s going to miss it. He tells you as much when you turn up at the frat two hours before kickoff to find him stuffing shirts into a bag. He looks guilty as you walk into his room, question written all over your face.

“You remember Rory, yeah? From UPenn? He invited me to their party. Apparently, they’ve got Travis Scott. It’s gonna be lit, so… I’m going.”

“Overnight?” you ask, looking at his heavy bag. Harrison nods, running a hand through his hair.

“Yeah. Sorry… I probably should’ve told you.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah.” You glance down at your hands and swallow the irritation that festers in your chest. Harrison has never been great at communication. Throughout the duration of your arrangement—whether you’re just dating, or just hooking up—he’s kept his cards close to his chest. He confuses you.

When you’d first spent the night with him, Harrison had acted like he’d wanted something more with you. You’d been on a few dates, he’d brought your flowers, the works. But with time, it’s as if he’s tired of you. The spark has slipped away, and if he wasn’t on his way across state, you’d sit him down and have a discussion about the direction of your entanglement. But he is, and you have no time, so you display your irritation by crossing your arms.

“I’m sorry,” he adds. He finishes zipping up his bag and throws it over his shoulders before stepping towards you. With warm hands, he cups your cheeks and brings you in for a deep, passionate kiss. “You can always come if you want.”

You grimace as you shake your head. “I told Tom I’d help him here,” you say. “It’s fine. Just… Have fun, alright?”

A shadow of jealousy briefly flitters across Harrison’s face, but it’s quick to smooth away when he clears his throat. “‘Course,” he says. He takes your hand and leads you from his room. “What are you guys doing?”

“Hm?”

“Tom. What are you doing with him?”

“Oh. Just hanging up banners, and stuff. He wanted me to help him with the drinks too.”

“Nice.”

The air between you is stale, and you’re glad when Harrison pulls you down the corridor and pauses outside Tom’s room. There’s loud music coming from the room, so Harrison has to rap loudly several times, an act that makes you cringe.

“Come in!” yells Tom. Harrison does just that, pulling you in after him with a firm grip. “Oh, hey guys?”

You instantly wrench your hand from Harrison’s, not wanting him to feel your palm grow hot as your eyes fall onto Tom. You’ve caught him mid-workout, perched on the edge of his bed, shirtless and doing curls with a hand weight. There’s a healthy red flush to his face, and his bicep bulges as he flexes with the weight. All across his chest are lines of thick muscle, and you find yourself staring.

“Hey, dude,” Harrison says. “I’m just on my way out.” He turns to look at you, an easy smile on his face. “Y/N told me you guys have plans tonight, so… I guess, I’m just wondering. Can you keep an eye on her? Look after my girl, y’know?” He pauses to chew on his lip, guilt at leaving reflected in his eyes. “Make sure she’s okay, ‘n all that.”

Tom stands from the bed, tossing the weight onto the mattress with ease before approaching you, smirking. “‘Course, Haz.” He wraps a very hot, slightly sweaty arm around you and pulls you into his side. “I’ll take care of her.” Tom glances at you, shrugging softly. “Take care of you,” he adds.

You don’t know what kind of dangers you might face tonight that warrant a personal guard, but you don’t think you mind it if your attendant is Tom. He’s hot and sweaty and he smells of man, but you burn for him.

“Thanks,” you respond, slightly breathless.

Harrison looks between you both, then shrugs. “Great.” He steps forward and briefly touches his lips to you. Tom freezes, holding you tighter in his arms the moment Harrison kisses you, and that action makes you feel perplexed. “Have a good time, guys.”

“You too, Haz,” Tom responds. You echo similar sentiments.

When the door closes behind Harrison, Tom doesn’t move. He simply holds you tighter, then drops his mouth down and presses a light kiss to the base of your neck. Your choked whimper travels into the air, and you flush as he steps away.

“We will have fun tonight, won’t we, Y/N?” he teases. His eyes are dark as they briefly skitter across your figure. After a moment, Tom walks across the room and picks up a towel and a fresh set of clothes. Tom pauses in front of you, tilting his head as he looks at you. He has to know how frazzled he makes you feel. He’s got to.

“Yeah,” you reply, voice high. “A lot of fun.”

“Mmm. Hope so.” Tom steps forward and cups your cheek in his hot palm, kissing your forehead before stepping back. “I’m going to shower. Make yourself comfortable, yeah? What’s mine is yours.”

A full-body shiver travels down your spine, but luckily it isn’t until he’s turned on his heel and strode over to the door.

“Have fun,” you call out. Tom turns back to wink, then disappears in a flash.

As the door closes behind him, you wonder if you really lost your spark for Harrison, or if the feelings you had for him just paled in comparison to the ones you harbour for his best friend.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The party picks up quickly. You split off from Tom a few hours in, being pulled away by one of your friends and staying with them for a while. You start to miss him, though, so you excuse yourself from a game of beer pong out on the patio and walk back into the large frat house, cringing slightly as you hear the loud music. You haven’t been drinking much tonight. Something tells you that you’ll need your sober brain.

It takes you a while to find Tom, the house busy and wild. He’s not in the kitchen, nor the hallway. Your adventures take you to the large living room, where they have the music and the drinks set up. As you wander inside, your eyes take a moment to acclimate to the dim lighting. When they settle, you see him, and the breath leaves your lungs.

Tom is standing in the middle of the dancefloor, talking with a girl. She’s draped in his arms, the tips of her fingers running through his hair as she chats to him. Tom is looking at her intently, paying rapt attention to what she’s saying, but the smile on his face doesn’t quite stretch to his eyes. When he spots you, his brows briefly raise, only for them to lower again as he smirks. He winks at you, then reaches for the girl, bringing her in closer and dropping his mouth so he can start to kiss her neck.

Jealousy consumes you. It burns through every other rational thought that you have. The sight of the girl wrapping herself around him as Tom kisses up her neck makes your fingers curl into fists at your sides, and you start to walk across the room before you can comprehend it. Tom sees you, continuing to make flirtatious eye contact with you as he deposits light, wet kisses to the girl’s shoulder. It feels targeted and provocative, and whatever game that he’s playing seems to work.

“Tom!” you call out when you’re just a few centimetres away. He leisurely pulls away from the girl, dark eyes twinkling mischievously as he looks up at you.

“Yes, Y/N?”

You grimace. Now you’re over here, on the receiving end of stares from Tom and his companion, you wonder why you’d responded so immediately and directly.

“You need to come with me. We have, uh… Things to do.”

Tom raises an eyebrow, stepping away from the girl as he crosses his biceps over his chest. He’s wearing his golden chain, the one that always drives you mad, and he looks so fucking handsome under the UV lights.

“And what would those things be, Y/N?” he asks. The girl at his side is looking between you both.

“You know,” you hiss.

The girl frowns, then huffs out a sigh and pushes at Tom’s arm. “Can we go upstairs?” she asks him. Tom glances at her, chewing his lower lip as he finds himself on the receiving end of her fluttering lashes.

“No, Jess,” he says, evening out the rejection with a soft smile. “I’m sorry. Have a good evening.” Before she can respond, Tom reaches out and takes your hand, pulling you with ease towards one of the corners of the room. You squeal as he tugs you, easily falling into his side and enjoying the press of his warm arm to yours. He drops his voice, pausing only when you’re on the edge of the dancefloor to spin you and press his hands to your waist. “Are you alright, darling?” he asks, smirking. “Looks to me like someone was a little jealous.”

Your body heats up, and you find yourself nibbling at your lower lip as you try to make sense of the situation. “Nope,” you lie. With ease, you reach up and rest your hands on Tom’s broad shoulders. “I was just… Thinking about the night we met. You said we could dance then, but we never did.” You tilt your head to the side, throwing out a convincing smile. “Do you want to change that?”

Tom growls, tugging you closer as he wraps his arms around you. The tips of his teeth brush up against the shell of your ear and you whimper as his hot breath fans out over the side of your face. “Fuck yeah, babe,” he murmurs.

You settle into it easily. Tom ends up pulling you so your back rests flush against his front, his arms skating around to hold your waist as you grind back against him. It’s close and hot, and it doesn’t take long for him to put his lips back where they belong—on your neck, kissing deeply. Everything that he does feels calculated and purposeful, but it’s only when he brings his kisses near your ear and whispers a low, “you’re so fucking hot, baby,” that you come back to earth.

“We… Shouldn’t,” you whimper. Tom kisses your lobe in response. “Harrison.”

“What about him?” he mutters. His voice is raspy and seductive, and the way he strokes his hands over your sides makes your eyes roll back. “He doesn’t care about you like I do, Y/N. You know he doesn’t.”

You close your eyes, focusing on the way Tom sucks deep bruises to the sensitive spot on your neck. Harrison had never been able to find it, had never even tried.

“He cares about me,” you say, voice hoarse.

“Yeah. But not enough.” Tom spins you in his arms, reaching up to cup your cheek in a hand. He peers at you, eyes wide and insistent. “He lies to you. Did he ever tell you about the night that you met?”

You quirk a brow. “No.”

A shadow of hesitation passes over Tom’s face, but he swallows it down. “He only came up to you as part of a… a fucking bet. That’s the only reason I didn’t come back to you that night.” He strokes his fingers over your cheekbone, soothing you when you frown. “You’re the prettiest fucking woman I’ve ever met in my life, and it’s been killing me to see you both together.”

You press your forehead to his, feeling his breath come out in hot pants over your face. “Do you like me, Tom?”

He chuckles. “You have no idea how much, babe.” Tom shifts his hands back to your hair and he cradles your face. “I’d be so good to you. I swear.” He’s speaking earnestly, his voice breaking softly as he looks at you. “I love Haz. He’s my best mate. But we all know that you’re not a good fit. He left you here tonight. He doesn’t satisfy you.” Tom drops his voice, tilting his head to the side as his voice drops lower. He brings his lips closer, kissing the side of your mouth as you shiver. “I could satisfy you properly.”

You release a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding. For a moment you stare at Tom, eyes swirling down to his lips, then, as if entranced, you reach down and pull your phone from your bra. Using one hand on the screen, you reach up to cup Tom’s face with the other, smiling softly when he instinctively tilts his lips and kisses the palm of your hand. You write out a short message, the guilt in your heart fading when you briefly check Harrison’s Instagram story and see him surrounded by a sea of girls at the party he hadn’t invited you to.

After sending the message, you tilt the screen towards Tom’s face, watching his skin glow white as he slowly reads the few words.

You: Haz, I’m sorry to do this over text, but it’s over. I think we both know that we’re better as friends.

Tom’s brows raise. “Did you..?”

“Yeah.” You bite your lip and slowly tuck your phone back against your chest. “It’s over.”

Tom kisses you immediately, both of his hands anchoring your cheeks. You could almost cry with how good it feels to have his mouth touching yours again. He parts his lips and slips his tongue into your mouth, and you moan as you wrap your arms around his neck. As he holds you tightly, his hands slip down to hold your waist, and though your teeth and noses collide and clash, you don’t care. It’s beautifully imperfect, and it’s so hot that it makes your whole body throb. Tom’s curls give you the perfect leverage to jerk him closer, and as you make out mercilessly on the edge of the dance floor, you feel a piece of you slot into place.

“Come upstairs with me,” he groans, voice thick as he speaks against your lips. Your mouth is wet with spit, but you don’t bother to wipe it clean when you pull back. Tom’s eyes glint with hunger, and he grabs at your hand when you nod.

The journey upstairs is fast and easy, full of your giggles as he runs his thumb over the back of your hand. The moment you’re in his room, Tom pushes you back against the door and flicks the lock, attaching his lips to your neck with ease.

“Tom,” you whine, running your hands all over his back as he sucks harshly against your skin.

His hands skim lower and you curve your spine away from the door so he can grab handfuls of your ass, your moan mixing with his grunt when he pulls away from your neck to kiss your lips again. It’s as if he’s ravenous—unable to pick between your lips and your neck, your hips and your ass. Tom changes his position every few seconds, and the irregularity fills you with excitement.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he groans. Tom pulls back breathlessly, looking straight into your eyes. “Can I… Are you okay with this?” he clarifies, holding your gaze firmly until you nod.

“I’m more than okay with this,” you say.

“Good, good... Pretty baby.” Tom runs his index finger down your face, his knees bending as he slowly sinks down in front of you. He scatters two light kisses to each of your breasts before travelling down your navel, only stopping when he’s fully on his knees, gazing up at you from beneath his lashes. “Darling?”

“Hmm?” You’re light-headed but aroused, your dress feeling tight as you shuffle against the door.

“Can I taste your pussy, baby?”

Your breath catches in the back of your throat, and the first time you try to speak, only a moan comes out. Tom smirks, fingers easily pushing up the hem of your dress. As his fingertips stroke up your thighs to rest on your waistband, he pauses, tilting his head to the side in question. “Yeah,” you manage, voice a whisper. “I want that so badly.”

“Mmm, should’ve just said, darling.” Tom’s head dips, disappearing between your legs. You whimper as he rubs the front of two fingers down the front of your panties, the material wet and warm. “God…” He unhooks them easily and tugs them down your legs, pausing to allow you to kick them off. When he repositions, he holds your thighs further apart and presses a kiss to your soft flesh. “You’re fucking soaked, lovie.” His hot breath fans across your centre. “Pretty cunt’s just waiting for me, isn’t it?”

His cockiness turns you on, and you’ve barely gotten out a garbled moan before he’s delving in. Tom’s skilful tongue runs up your slit, light at first, gradually leading you into it. You cry out as he finds your clit, sucking softly around the bud before lapping his tip across it gently. You have to reach out and grab ahold of the nearby bookshelf as arcs of pleasure spread out from your centre, small whimpers and moans being pulled from your mouth as Tom continues his assault.

“Tastes like paradise,” he whines, speaking against your cunt. “So sweet, baby. I understand why Haz likes being with you so much.” Tom pauses, drawing a few more strokes across your clit as you whimper. “Mine now,” he murmurs, deep voice vibrating across your centre. “My pussy.”

“Tom,” you moan, legs shaking. He responds by bringing his right hand up, slowly curving two of his digits into your heat. As he starts to thrust his fingers, the sounds of your wet arousal fill the air, making you moan louder. “Feels so good,” you encourage, realising he works harder when you speak to him. The top of his curls brushes against your legs as his tongue continues to glide over your clit, merciless and pleasurable.

“You sound so pretty, love,” Tom says, pulling away slightly. The vibrations from the noise make you moan louder, and you glance down to see him staring at you, eyes blown wide with lust and his chin covered in your juices. He looks back between your legs, readjusting his fingers and curving them at different angles before he strikes gold. When you call out his name, his other hand goes up to your hips, holding you back against the door as he smirks. “I want you to cum for me, darling,” he coos. “Let me make you feel good. I want to hear those pretty little moans. Be loud for me.”

You don’t take much convincing, as once Tom’s got his mouth back on your clit, you’re arching your back as you fall over the edge. He laps your bud with his hot, firm tongue, his fingers continuing to stroke at your walls until you spasm into climax, reaching out to grab his hair as you moan and writhe against the door. He holds you up, even when you feel like falling, and it has to be the most intensely pleasurable orgasm that you’ve ever experienced in your life.

“Fuck,” you pant, only able to calm down when Tom pulls back. He sits on his shins, smacking his lips as he looks up at you, smirking. You’ve still got a hand on his head, so you fiddle with his hair as you recover. “That was so good.” A breathless smile finds your face. “So good. Thank you.”

“No problem, darling.” Tom clambers to his feet, and your eyes find themselves drawn to the bulge in his jeans. “Knew I could make you cum,” he says, speaking almost to himself. “Looked like an angel. Taste like one too.”

You swallow a moan and step forward, hands twisting behind your back to release your zipper. Tom’s eyes widen as you push down your dress, stepping out of it with ease.

“We’re not done yet, are we?” you ask, biting your lip as you look over to the bed. Tom shakes his head and offers you a hand after you’ve pulled your phone from your bra and placed it down on his desk.

“No way,” he agrees. Tom pushes you down onto the mattress but stays standing at the edge, nimble hands quickly releasing his belt and pulling off his jeans, then his shirt. You admire his Calvin Klein boxers, black with a white band skimming across the top, and he wiggles his eyebrows. “Fuck,” he adds. His eyes skim your figure, appreciation held in his gaze. “I can’t believe I’ve got you here.” He gets on the bed, pushing you down and climbing on top of you as he kisses his way up to your mouth. When he’s hovering above your face, he cups your cheeks. “Most beautiful girl in the whole world, love. Girl of my dreams.”

You kiss him, your hands finally able to learn the curves of his muscular back. Tom grinds down into you, his covered crotch meeting your bare pussy, and the friction to your clit makes you moan into the kiss. As you admire his form, you settle into his lips, your heart beating faster and more persistently against your ribcage.

“Tom,” you say, speaking against his mouth. He pulls back, lips red and puffy. “You’re so handsome. Have I ever told you that?”

Tom bites his lip, continuing to roll his hips down against yours. When you start to grind up to meet him, an expression of enjoyment darkens his face. “Thanks, love.”

You lick your lips as you wrap your arms around him, holding him closer as he continues to grind into you. “Every time I’d see you out doing weights or walking around shirtless, it’d turn me on,” you admit. You snake a hand between your bodies, managing to press your palm up and against the outline of his cock. Tom groans loudly, dropping his head into the crook of your neck and whining as he ruts against the pressure. “I want to feel you,” you whimper. “Properly. I want to feel how good it is to have you inside me... I can feel you. I know you’re big.” You bite your lip. “I’ve thought about it for weeks.”

Tom forces his face away from your neck and meets your eyes, his pupils completely dilated. “You are going to be the death of me, lovie,” he says seriously, drawing a chuckle from your lips. Tom leans up and kisses you, softer, but only for a moment. He reaches across his bed and rummages through his bedside table, procuring a condom a second later.

“Let me do it,” you offer. Tom nods, and you swap positions with ease. Tom settles on the mattress, raising his hips and watching as you tug his boxers down his legs. You feel yourself salivate slightly as you take sight of his cock, erect and flushed, pressing up against his lower stomach. Holding the open condom in one hand, you run your thumb over his tip with the other, gathering beads of his silver precum on your fingertip. You meet Tom’s eyes and sit back on his thighs as you push your finger into your mouth, exaggerating your moan as you lick it clean.

Tom tosses his head back, his hair fluffing up against the pillows. His cock twitches against his stomach. “Fuck, baby… You’re driving me crazy.” When you reach back and roll the condom over his length, he can barely keep still, rutting up and filling your hand the moment you’re done. “You know… every time you stayed the night with Haz, I could hear you guys,” he says, looking at you through hooded eyes. You give him a few pumps, biting your lip as you admire his member and try to imagine how good it’ll feel filling you to the brim. “Used to get off listening to your moans. Imagining it was me fucking you. Thinking… Thinking about how good it’d be to- fuck- to open you up on my cock.”

His words make you feel hot, and you speed up the rhythm of your hand as you watch his face flush with heat. “I know,” you admit. “I could hear you sometimes.” You lean up and press a kiss to his chest, feeling his hot skin between your lips. “You make the hottest noises, Tom.”

“For you,” he groans, jaw tensing. “It’s all for you.” He continues to rut into your hand, and you smirk as you feel him throb. As Tom grows more erratic, you feel your slick between your legs thicken and your core begin to throb.

“Can I ride you?” you ask.

Tom immediately bounces his head, eyes lighting up like you’ve spoken the only thing he’s ever wanted to hear. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes—”

You bend over to kiss him, sliding up his body with ease. Tom reaches up your back, eager hands falling to a stop at your bra. He manages to unclasp it after a few attempts, grinning victoriously against your lips as it falls slack. Once you’ve thrown it aside, you sit back, watching as Tom’s hand goes down to guide his cock through your slit. One of his hands rests on your hip, palm hot and heavy, and he gives you a short squeeze as he presses his tip against your entrance.

Slowly, you sink down onto him, moaning loudly as his girth stretches your cunt. Your eyes squeeze shut as you adjust, breath hitching when Tom adds his thumb to your clit, the pleasure easing the stretch. When you’re completely seated, you find yourself shifting, Tom groaning when you clench and slowly start to ride him.

“Oh my god,” he moans. “Feels like heaven, darling. Actual heaven.” His jaw is tense as he tosses his head back, prying open an eye to watch as you bounce over him, moving faster as you find your rhythm. “So wet, sweetheart. So tight… So much better than I’d ever imagined.” He’s looking at you with pleasure screwed across his face, and the sight of him so desperate makes you feel powerful.

“Tom,” you whimper. “I can feel you so deep.” You’re starting to unravel, feeling him everywhere. With the thumb still rolling over your clit, his hand weighing down your hip, and the tip of his cock brushing deeper each time you come together, you can feel yourself on the verge already. “Can you… I can’t…”

“Y’wanna flip?”

“Yeah. Please.”

It happens easily, without Tom falling from you. A moment later, you’re resting over the warm mattress, wrapping your legs around Tom’s back and pulling him closer as he rails you into the bed. He’s faster than you’d been, and the new angle opens you up deeper, allowing his tip to press more pronouncedly against your g-spot. His chain dangles against your neck, the cool metal scorching against your flushed skin.

“Oh god,” Tom groans. The sounds of your bodies meeting as he roughly thrusts into you, again and again, fill the air. “You’re so perfect. Feels so good.” His eyes are dark as they meet with yours, swirling with unrestrained lust. “So wet, lovie. D’you like it when I fuck you? Yeah? Pussy’s squeezing me so tight. My pussy, isn’t it? You’re mine.”

“Yours,” you agree, liking how it sounds.

Tom grunts and drills into you faster. With each rotation of his hips against yours, his thick head reaches further, dragging across your g-spot with ease and causing sparks to race up your spine. His name falls from your lips like a prayer, and you clutch at his torso for purchase as you scramble to stay grounded. When you add a hand to your clit, you feel your cunt clench, squeezing his length and making him groan again.

‘I’m not gonna last, love. Shit. Feels too fucking good,” he whimpers.

You bring his lips back to yours, meeting them clumsily as you moan. Your skin is hot and sweaty, being smothered by the heat of his body bearing down on you. You wind your free hand into his hair. “It’s okay,” you get out, voice catching. “I’m so close, Tom. Fuck. Make me cum. Please.”

You ride the edge for a few moments more before Tom cries out, calling your name in a voice so exerted and broken that it pushes you over the edge too. As his cock pulses against your walls and his groans fall like music to your ears, you let everything go, basking in the pleasure that crashes over your figure in thick, consuming waves. Tom’s hands are slick as they grasp at your sides, but he’s holding you tightly in place and you like it.

When the air finally clears, Tom pulls out, collapsing onto the mattress beside you with a loud groan. You flip onto your side, quivering as your core pangs with pleasurable aftershocks, your tired eyes drifting up to meet his. He reaches out, sweaty palm drifting to your face as he cups your cheek and smiles at you.

“Well,” he starts, voice low. He pulls you closer, and you carefully curl yourself into his arms. Tom nuzzles his lips against your forehead and leaves three light kisses to your skin. “That was a heavenly experience.”

You snort, burying your face in his chest and feeling the cool metal of his chain press to your skin. “Heavenly?”

“Mhmm. Because you’re an angel. My angel.”

You smile into his front. “What a charmer,” you say.

Tom combs some fingers over your hair and softly coaxes you away from his chest. Both of you share a pillow, his deep brown eyes feel of inquisition as he looks at you.

“Darling,” he mumbles, speaking slowly, almost nervous. “I like you a lot. And… And I know the circumstances are messy and complicated, but… I don’t want this to be a one-time thing. I want this to be an every time thing. I want you to be my girl.”

“Your girl?”

“Yeah. My girlfriend.” Tom’s handsome eyes flutter over your face. “What do you say?”

You trace your index finger around the sculpted lines of his face, smiling softly as his lips pull into a grin. You think about how your life has changed since the first night you met him, and how your heart has slowly learnt to gravitate towards him. Tom’s right—it is messy, and maybe your union is complicated and a little wrong too, but it feels good. Him kissing your forehead and pulling you closer feels good. He feels good.

“Yeah,” you agree, speaking slowly. “I would really like that.”

Tom’s face splits into a smile, and he pushes in to kiss you. “Good,” he murmurs. “‘Cos I’m gonna woo you every single day of your life. I’ll bring you tea every morning, tuck you in at night. Make you moan louder than you’ve ever moaned in your life—”

“Alright, alright. You’ve already won me over, Tom, you can calm down—”

“Nope.” Tom’s grinning widely as he continues to peck your lips, unable to keep his hands off you. “I’ll keep charming you until I’ve won your heart, babe. This is just how it’s got to be.”

You kiss him, not knowing how to tell him that he’s already had your heart, firmly in the palm of his hand, since the very first night you met.

“Well,” you respond, voice quiet in the air. “I quite like the sound of that.”

Tom nuzzles his nose against you, lips brushing yours. “Yeah?”

You hum affirmatively and reach up to bury your hands back into his hair. “Yeah.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

:D let me know what you think please !!! I would love to know if you have a favourite scene...?! I am torn between y/n putting tom to bed + the lecture theatre...lmk (if you want !!)

mlist + taglist are through the link in my bio <3

thank you for reading!! <3<3

#tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader smut #frat!tom #frat!tom holland #frat!tomfic #smut #alternate summary for this is: tom has a raging b*ner for 16k straight

2K notes · View notes

honeyblueroad · 3 years

Text

Dream Smp Characters as sports

(/rp and all insulting of characters and sports are incredibly /lh)

Dream – Orienteering

Orienteering while not actually just a rich person activity gives off some rich kid vibes. It also ties in with Manhunt, which is not canon, it’s just kind of cool that it does, and it involves actively looking for something which kinda ties into his character as he is a very driven individual who tends to know how he wants to achieve what he wants. It can also be a solo sport or a group sport which sort of ties into how he works equally well with other people and alone. Also, it may just be my school, but I noticed it can make some people really bitchy.

Sapnap – Racing

This is mostly because it’s really cool and I think Sapnap is cool. Racing does require you to have a quick reaction time which Sapnap seems too often to make (sometimes poor) decisions quite quickly. When I think of racing, I think of those cool hot wheel cars with the flames on and Sapnap is the fire guy. Racing is also quite dangerous and competitive which suits Sapnap as he has little regard for safety and is a very competitive person.

Awesamdude - Swimming

I feel like this one kinda works because the Prison shower convo shows he finds comfort in water and also it also kind of fits his character arc with it be more relaxed at first and suddenly getting very intense. The green hair on his twitch pfp really reminds me of mermaids as well as him being pretty early to get a trident and his aims to protect people, especially kids which reminds me of lifeguards.

Ponk – Football

This one like most of these is predominantly based on vibes, but it being a team sport which also fits in with how well Ponk works with others, as well as the community around football teams, being very dedicated which reminds me of how much he talks to chat. Also, the singing in his streams which he’s very good at reminds me of the singing at football games- even if they’re often less than great.

Tommy – Aerial arts

I like this because for him because it's very based on performing, which he seems to enjoy often taking part in plays as the leads, and singing a lot, even partaking in karaoke. Another reason it fit with the with the performance aspect is because he likes to show off to other people and get a lot of his stability from validation from others. It also kind of fit as it very colorful and he has a very colorful personality. It also looks easy, but it hurts like a bitch and will give you so many bruises and blisters, it’s much harder than people think, and you have to be flexible. It’s also usually done to music which his character is largely based around, and fits in with a lot of fanon (wingedinnit, moth boy, spiderman)

Tubbo – Roller blading

I like this mostly because of the 80’s vibes that rollerblading gives off to me and how that fits in with cold war thing he’s got going on. It’s also just seems like a very controlled chaos, with a lot of highs speeds and different things going on which really matches how I interpret Tubbo’s character. It also is really good for hanging out with friends and Tubbo is a pretty good friends most of the time, and the music tubbo uses in his streams always reminds me of rollerblading.

Purpled – Darts

This nearly 100% because it’s a cool mercenary thing, but also because seems to be really popular with teenage boys. It also takes a lot of precision and you can make a fair amount of money from it. It also looks pretty dangerous, but I’ve played darts like twice lmao.

Eret – Rounders

It has got Summer vibes which I feel eret also has pretty strongly, and fairly chill which most of the time eret is. There is also the love it or hate it nature of the game which I feel is also true for the fandom as a whole. Rounders is pretty posh which I think fits with the whole monarch thing. It can also get very ruthless very fast and is pretty good for friends, and Eret seems to like his friends and want to make/make amends with more.

Niki – Ballet

It really reminds her because it is very elegant but takes a lot of effort to keep it that way and it tends to be associated with gentleness but takes a lot of strength and has been used as a form of protests pretty frequently, reminding me of the pogtopia era and can be used to tell stories.

Quackity – Horse riding

It involves a lot of Gambling pretty frequently which is a big theme in his current arc. He has also seemed to really appreciate Boner and even when he horsenapped Carl he didn’t really harm it. Making money in horse riding relies a lot on Rich people and there is a lot of money to be made.

Technoblade - Fencing

I generally associate it with Techno because he uses sword predominately for combat in recent times, and often does the thing where you talk casually with the person you’re fighting with. He also doesn’t take fights seriously.

Philza – Tai chi

I like this one because it is really good for your health, which assume is necessary if you are an immortal/ feared fighter/ angel of death. It’s also pretty relaxing which Phil can be to his allies. It’s also peaceful but started a martial art, and he’s been more peaceful than normal recently. Also, it’s very popular with old people.

Ranboo – Ice skating

Ranboo is a pretty awkward person and ice skating can be really awkward like trying to be able to practice by getting up really earlier and being sleep deprived, or trying to avoid little kids at public skates, but at the same time avoiding hockey skaters who are not avoiding anyone, also just struggling with a move in front of everyone who somehow seems to get it despite it making zero sense. Although ice skating is done on frozen water and sometimes you can end up a little soggy, it not that much so it should be fine. It also gives him a link to the rest of the bench trio in music and specifically to Tubbo in the skating aspect. He also lives in generally cold places joining the smp in winter and living in snowchester and techno’s thingy. Skating also has the black and white color with the whole gender roles skate’s thing and people’s general choices for costumes, and it also feels more mature than it actually is like Ranboo. Also, it meant to be a lot hard for tall people and Ranboo is like seven-foot or something so while that doesn’t add to it's kinda funny.

Skeppy – Disco dancing

The Box head that people draw him with just has disco vibes, and his skin is pretty brightly colored and he’s a pretty fun dude

Wilbur- Archery

I feel like it suits him because it’s pretty calming but very violent and deals with conflicts from afar, it also a solo activity which means he could still practice it in the later days where he was more antisocial, also can be practiced with minimal equipment which is good because he is often poor and/or exiled.

#dream smp #dreamwastaken #sapnap #awesamdude #dropsbyponk #tommyinnit #tubbo #purpled #eret #nihachu #quackity #philza #ranboo #technoblade #skeppy #wilbur soot

42 notes · View notes

sanchoyo · 3 years

Text

danny phantom 14-20 thoughts!! I finished up s1 :D these last few eps were actually really really good!!!

-did. did tucker really just say esperanto was a dead language only spoken as a secret code between geeks. google says around 100,000 people actively speak it. oh my god...it being an auxiliary language doesn't mean its 'just for geeks to speak in code' ...it helps bridge gaps between people who don't have a language in common...

-danny really isn't pulling punches when it comes to fighting the ghost-cop possessed people huh. like he SLAMMED KWAN INTO THE CONCRETE SO HARD. HE THREW PAULINA INTO A BILLBOARD. will that...I mean it WOULD carry over to their bodies non-possessed, right? like if the ghost piloting their bodies gets hurt?? itd be so upsetting to be possessed, lose time, then wake up covered in bruises (and possibly, broken bones??) real horror movie stuff im sure wont be addressed in any way

-tuckers parents seem nice! I like them :)

-WULF IS CUTE AND I FEEL BAD. im so glad the gang realized he was only causing trouble bc of the shock collar walker put on him and helped. also, him wearing that big hoodie with the hood on, and thinking its subtle. we can tell youre still a giant wolfie :) THEN GETTING SUCKED INTO THE PORTAL AAAAH :( anxiously waiting to see Him Again....

-DANNY BLASTING HIS PARENTS THINKING THEY WERE OVERSHADOWED LMFAO GET THEIR ASSES. maddie marking how many ghosts she gets with lipstick tallies on the side of her portal gun? kindaaa iconic tho. (ALSO, SHE WAS LIKE, 2 FT AWAY FROM HIM RIGHT AFTER SHE TRIED TO SHOOT HIM. HOW DO YOU NOT RECONINZE YOUR OWN SON??? like sure, he might have diff hair/eye colors. but like, if one of my family members dyed their hair, and was wearing contacts, its not like id be like 'wHO IS THIS STRANGER!!!' ...he still has all his facial features!! same everything!!! I hate it here)

-paulina being #1 girl realizing danny's a friendly ghost immediately. smart queen. lancer and kwan ran away right after he made this sweet baby face at them:

which is hilarious.

-ok. im not saying his bullying is JUSTIFIED, but. dash looked so pleased with the (cute!) poster he just painted, and danny comes thru the wall and spills paint on his nice letterman jacket. his anger is justified maybe 65% of the time so far...(not the way he handles it, but STILL.) at least lancer is stepping in!! and them making a silly little bet was...cute?? until dash pulled out his GROSS UNDERWEAR AND SAID DANNY WOULD HAVE TO EAT THEM???? WHAT THE FUCK MAN. TUCKER WAS SO RIGHT ITS FUCKING WEIRD TO CARRY THOSE AROUND EWWW. THIS KID IS UNWELL. lancer was right, his animatronic setup was SUPER IMPRESSIVE?? hes actually pretty creative. danny meanwhile is stealing the fright knight's design...I hope dash is taking art classes or smth with his sports

-fright knight is the most bestest ghost so far i LOVE THAT DESIGN. I am biased towards knights, and characters with swords, but he fucks so severely. and should sue danny for copyright infringement for stealing his design for his haunted house. if some 14 yr old broke into MY house and stole MY sword, id also be pissed. his evil winged unicorn rules too with its FANGS. and he just CAN SHOVE THE PORTAL OPEN WITH HIS HANDS??? is he the strongest ghost weve seen so far? idk but hes my fav. SOUL SHREDDER IS SUCH A COOL SWORD NAME TOO. ANY NAMED SWORD ALSO FUCKS. 'flaming bedsheets of DEATH' funny king. ALSO he was polite to dash and tucker when just asking for directions and telling tucker 'oh maybe, just a suggestion, maybe be nicer to me and be more respectful :)' I LOOOVE HIM.

-I noticed this in the Ember ep, but jazz has an electric guitar in her room!! talent musical queen!! its cool to see hobbies just in the bg.

-fright knight's murder castle reminds me of the booby trapped murder castle in zexal!! another supposedly 'for kids' show with murder/trap castles! we love that. if you are a dp fan reading this, give yugioh zexal a try. its also got 13-14 year old protags and involves (alien) ghosts. the cardgame is just a vessel for the plot, which is really good. (I just want more people to watch my fav yugioh, man)

-danny. with a SWORD.

-danny doesnt NEED TO WIN this contest, dash didnt STEAL HIS DESIGNS AND STEAL A SWORD. he also got excited to hear lancer got sent to a dimension with his worst fears too just so he could win the contest? DANNY WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!!! BRO MAYBE YOURE 14 AND HAVENT FULLY DEVOLPED YOUR WHOLE BRAIN YET, BUT...THATS FUCKED. this kid casually says the most deranged things, I do worry for my spooky son. once again, therapy needed. that judo toss was great tho. I wonder if he actually did pick up some martial arts stuff from his mom?

-danny can fly 112 mph!!! thats so fast! I love the lil montage of him and his friends testing his abilities and stuff, very cute and a good way to showcase what he can do by now and how much more proficient he's gotten from ep 1!!! I'm sure he's going to get more abilities :)

-im glad...maddie's at least TRYING this ep. I do feel for her because her husband is a man baby. but the fact it took 16 episodes to get a kinda semblance of any kind of real concern or attempts at bonding. hmm. jack's 'BACK OFF SHES A MINOR' @ the ghost trying to attack jazz. also was very funny. and him wanting to make an action figure of her? are the parents redeeming themselves to me? slightly. they gotta Work Harder

-THE GHOST. IS FLYING. THE PLANE.

-fenton machete. but she doesnt carry a PHONE??? ???

-I mean I expected vlad when you namedrop him earlier in the ep, and also the title card picture, and dalv corp being fucking vlad backwards. but seeing him just pull up on a golf cart made me bust out laughing. WITH the gift baskets prepared. why wouldnt you at least be suspicious. also, if he wants danny to be his lil sonboy, why is he so fucking malicious?? dude you are going about this in such a bad way. stop it. get some help.

-maddie not even hesitating to drag danny out. fucking good. danny is so right, go on the internet to date. get a cat. how do you spend...how many years?? has it been since college?? at least 20, right, since the parents/vlad are in their 40s? hung up on ONE girl. my god, man. incel drama queen. her kung fu IS impressive, but dude. 'we both know hes a creep' SO right. it sucks but they do need a phone and shit being in the middle of NOWHERE. also, just stealing his helicopter was great. <3

-'you must be exhausted carrying the weight of that mistake you made years ago' 'well we all make mistakes. maybe I'll make one now!' WHY DID THIS EXHCHANGE SEND ME. AND VLAD WITH THE BREATH SPRAY EWWW BITCH. 'OLD BAIT BREATH' SOO RIGHT. both danny and his mom playing him HAHAH hes so dumb. or rather, I think he thinks with his emotions too too much and is...actually pretty gullible? lmao he believed danny was ready to give in SO fast. (which is sad hes that hopeful, like you have SO MUCH MONEY YOU COULD EASILY GET ANOTHER GIRL WHO HAS A KID. AND WOULD WANT TO BE WITH YOU AND BE SUPPORTED. GET OVER THIS (1) WOMAN ALREADY IM GETTING SECONDHAND EMBARRASSMENT AAAAH)

-GHOST BEAR GHOST BEAR GHOST BEAR. it was also in the title card, but I still got very excited. we love bears here

-SAM'S BAT SWIMSUIT COVERUP!!! her outfits are simply iconic.

-'i'd tell you to go to the mens room, but I don't think you qualify' top paulina transphobic moments. :( and him wearing a tanktop to the swim park? hmmm! (actually I think she was overshadowed by then, so, KITTY top 10 transphobic moments??)

-kitty just piloting paulina around makes me feel SO bad tho, paulina's gonna wake up and be like 'wtf do you mean I was dating this rando' like youre leading danny on to make johnny jealous, and also just POSSESSING POOR PAULINA. dude take your relationship problems ELSEWHERE. last time we saw them, they seemed like such a cute couple!! wtf johnny!! I mean, she sucks for trying to make him jealous, he sucks for looking at other girls...maybe they need a break, but Not Like This. or, you know, just. better communication...

-and the A-listers having a full packet and a stamp system. who organizes this. kwan fucking owning being the new danny though, this is hysterical. THE TUCKER/KWAN FLOWER FIELD TWIRL. UNIRONICALLY ADORABLE. and him giving it his all for the poetry slam. bless his HEARTTTT.

-Star owns. actually, all of the extra characters are shining this ep and I love it.

-INVISO-BILL??? NOOOO THEY DID HIM SOO DIRTY. DANNY SWEETIE IM SO SORRY.

-johnny and danny bein friends and staging a fake fight (which danny takes too seriously, once again this child has aggression he NEEDS TO WORK OUT) I hope these three stay friends, I said it before but danny needs more friendly ghosts to hang with.

-at this point, Danny's ghost enemies are a lot like, I dunno, batman's rouge gallery is the first thing that comes to mind. they all have their own gimmick and unique designs, but most of them are easy to beat after learning the Moral Lesson. I still get excited when any of them show up again, though. 18 is another valerie episode!!!! :D skulker really said you two will get along if I have to handcuff you together <3 and the gym teacher really said, youre married now, have a flour baby! ngl, I'm not really watching this show for the shipping stuff (which I am very scared to look at the fandom for after I finish this watch through- I feel like there's probably discourse/arguing about ships...) but. I'm gonna put my opinion out there. valerie/danny > sam/danny. maybe I just really love the enemies to lovers trope. And the secret identity stuff adds Extra Flavor.

-SKULKER JUST HAVING THE BOX GHOST AND DANGLING HIM BY A STRING. HILARIOUS. and him watching them with binoculars and making his silly little commentary. AND MAKING THE SACK BABY CRY. LMAO. THIS DUDE IS A BABY KIDNAPPER. skulker is super fun

-danny, you just...collapsed the water tower. and then attacked the nasty burger machine...mascot thingy...out of anger..I KEEP SAYING HE'S GOT ANGER ISSUES BUT. HE REALLY NEEDS A LESSON IN MANAGING COLLATERAL DAMAGE!!! So does valerie!! They're both pretty focused on each other. I mean it's good of Danny to say he's trying to make sure PEOPLE don't get hurt, but... (I mean I guess it's not something 14 year olds WOULD worry about, but as an adult im like, who's going to fix that? how much money will that take??)

-TUCKER MAKING BANK. and sam and tucker being super emotionally attached to their flour baby and being pretty good parents. that's cute...also him just straight kissing her and being like. WAIT. O_O JDSKAFHD. his mom baking them into cookies was the funniest possible result. tbh I dont feel like this is on tucker, if anything the other kid's shouldve been more responsible! He was just taking an opportunity to get that $$ which I respect

-Danny being more understanding of Valerie's situation in the end (helping her at her job, too, and trying to keep that a secret for her!!!) And seeing them work together this ep, and also her letting phantom get her out of the ghost zone...was very sweet. LOVE that. more valerie eps pls

-me when I realize vlad's big stupid house exploded because of his own carelessness with changing the ghost portal ectofiltrator or whatever: *pointing and laughing*

-me when I realize it means he's gonna go make danny's life hell for it somehow: >:(

-SCOOBY PARODY!!! I feel like there's gotta be some scooby doo/danny phantom crossover stuff, right? also, 'guys in white' men in black wishes

-'oh, that's right! dad married the love of your life! you're bitter and alone!' DANNNNNYY GET HIS ASS ONCE AGAIN WE ARE POINTING AND LAUGHING AT VLAD

-'jack, you captured the ghost boy!!' UMM. he did nothing <3 'we have a weapon's vault??' YOU HAVE A WEAPONS VAULT??? and jack didnt put a handle on the inside. of fucking course he didnt! why would you leave that to your son!! or expect him to clean YOUR LAB when its where you work with probably dangerous chemicals and weapons and hes 14!! give him normal chores, like, I dunno, vacuuming, laundry, dishes...CMON. I hate it here. But I'm glad Jack is more chill about danny while he's a ghost, and willing to work with him for this ep. AND. I DID ENJOY JACK PUNCHING VLAD IN THE FACE. AND GENERALLY JUST OWNING HIM. the ghost punchy fists are actually amazing. like yeah, just punch a ghost in the face. that rules.

-ep 20 opens with the coolest fucking ghost lady design. her tattoos can come off and fight. MA'AM. I like ur nose ring and your cape maam hello 👉👈😳

-sam's grandma is hilarious and the most valid member of her family and I love her. thats my grandma now. and tucker covering for sam by dressing as her. thats true friendship <3 also skipping school to go to a goth circus. just bestie things! sam's parents are haters but for all the wrong reasons.

-'my family has controlled ghosts with this for generations!' WAIT. WAIT FREAKSHOW /ISNT/ A GHOST? I didn't expect that...he's just a fucked up guy controlling ghosts? anyway watching danny shoot at police cars and rob banks while mind controlled. its like, the most stereotypical 'bad' things lmao. (tbh an evil ghost circus troupe is a sick concept)

this gives off big deviantart emo edit vibes

(I'm going to assume evil circus reaper danny has a lot of fan content. people love an edgy au, except this one is canon (even tho its via mind control...having the protag go evil otherwise might be hard, I guess?) but au where he stays with the troupe...that has to exist, right?)

ANYWAY. excited to start s2!! lowkey surprised by how many notes some of these posts have gotten. I've gone back and tagged them all with 'dp thoughts' so they're easier to find on my blog! ^^ and I will probably possibly do (more) fanart on my art blog after I finish the watch of the whole show, so like. @sanchoyodraws follow my art blog :)

#sanchoyorambles #danny phantom #dp thoughts

15 notes · View notes

writhingcreature · 4 years

Text

Breathe ~ the Doctor (part 3)

A/n: Sorry that I’m fixating on this series I just? I love this idea a lot lol. Also, I know I posted this on the wrong account but it would literally be like an extra half hour of work to fix this and I am not in the MOOD so I hope y’all can forgive my idiocy lmao

Word Count: 9100+

MASTERLIST

"What are you laughing at?" Y/n demanded, his face going red at Rose's giggles which had not stopped since Y/n had walked in the room.

The blonde shook her head, thoroughly amused it seemed. "You've been around the Doctor too much!" She accused. "Since when do you wear white button up shirts? Long sleeves and collar and all."

Y/n seemed suddenly defensive. "I like it, and I made it my own. See, no jacket, and I roll my sleeves up! With a nice vest, I could pass as a business man at the end of the day, or a farmer, or whatever." He sighed, allowing himself a smile. "Everywhere we go is never we expect to be. How many times have you gone running about in something not fitting for the time we turn up at? No matter where we go, the Doctor always fits in. I thought maybe taking after him would do me some good." He shrugged. "Makes me feel more professional too."

Rose gave a short chuckle once more before letting a long breath out as she looped her arm with Y/n. Y/n didn't know what Casandra had done to their little group, but ever since the trio had parted in that hallway when Y/n had stayed behind with Chip, things had been very different between him, Rose, and the Doctor. Y/n and the Doctor had long since stopped correcting people when they were called a couple. The Doctor and Rose as well. Y/n and Rose though... they'd been friends so long. Two people teetering on an edge they both tried not to fall over, thinking the other person didn't care at all. Yet here they were, secretly in love with each other this whole time. What a pair of fools.

"Well you look good in it, I won't lie. Especially with the sleeves rolled up," Rose complimented.

Y/n looked at her, his face colored with amusement but also embarrassment at her kind words. "What is it with men wearing collared button ups, sleeves rolled up, that does it for so many people?"

Shrugging was as much of an answer as Y/n got from Rose, because just then the pair arrived back in the main controls room. Where they were within earshot of the Doctor. The man turned around when they entered, and stopped short when he saw Y/n. "Well you look..." Y/n blushed even harder and Rose looked between the two men before scoffing.

"Oh, you two. Tell him he looks nice Doctor, you look silly like that, not saying how you feel when everyone knows what you're thinking anyway."

The Doctor cleared his throat. "You look very nice, Y/n."

"Thank you, Doctor," Y/n replied.

Rose dropped his arm, moving further into the room to divert attention from the sudden awkwardness. It really didn't make sense. The Doctor had been romantically involved plenty of times, Y/n knew that for fact. Speaking of, Y/n had as well. The Doctor had even been married and had children. That had been ages though... perhaps he was rusty when it came to romance. Maybe it was just Y/n, who was far less experienced and completely clueless how to treat a situation where the rules were not as clear as the feelings they had for each other. They had all this energy, but no idea how to utilize it. Rose, as usual, was the one who seemed to be able to handle it. Perhaps it was that she'd been in several serious relationships, but she always directed that unspoken energy in the right direction, then let it go when it was time. She had perfect timing, actually. It was rather impressive.

"What about my outfit, Doctor? Do you think it'll do?" She asked casually.

As always, the Doctor took the opportunity to change the subject. Y/n wondered passively if things between them would have really gone anywhere without Rose. God, what would they do without her? "The late 1970's?" The Doctor thought aloud, returning Y/n's mind to what was happening now. "You'd be better off in a bin bag. Hold on, listen to this," he added in a rush to cover his rather rude comment.

Rock music began playing suddenly, and everyone's attention turned to that. "I've heard this before. My mum used to listen to it."

Rose looked at Y/n in surprise, but the Doctor knew what it meant to far too casually bring up people one had lost and not want it looked at further, so he was the one who continued the conversation to other things this time. "Ian Dury and the Blockheads," he said with a grin. "Number on in 1979! Your mum had a popular taste, Y/n."

At that Rose got rather bright, her smile so wide that you could hear it when she spoke. "You're a punk!" The Doctor began to sing, and Y/n joined him, both of them grinning at each other as they had their fun with the music. "You both are, I can't believe it. A pair of punks. You, Doctor, are specifically some old punk with a bit of rockabilly thrown in."

"Do you want to go see him?" The Doctor asked, enjoying the banter.

Leaning against one of the rails, Y/n watched the two in quiet amusement as he often did with them. They talked too much for Y/n to keep up with. He was usually at a slower pace than them, and he preferred to watch them go at it anyway. "How do you mean?" Rose asked. "In concert?"

"Well what else is the TARDIS for?" The Doctor pointed out. "Also, Y/n, don't just stand there. You need to be watching me I said, you have to learn what I'm doing and then I'll teach you why I'm doing it and what everything means. You learn by doing I know, but you have to watch first."

Y/n smirked. "Oh don't worry Doctor, I'm watching plenty."

"Oi!" The Doctor pointed a warning finger at Y/n, but his face was not angry as much as it was red like Y/n's had been before. "Behave, you."

"I think not," Y/n disregarded.

"I'm sorry are we ignoring the fact that we might go to a concert in the 1970's? How cool would that be Y/n? I bet your mum would love that."

Y/n darkened a bit. "No, my mum hated crowds. She did like the music though." It wasn't bitter, but thoughtful. The same tone the Doctor used when he talked about his old life, before the Time War. Rose had noticed how similar the men were becoming. More and more very day, and quickly too.

"You know, I can take you anywhere," the Doctor told Y/n. Anywhere in space, but also in time. In the past. We can watch all the greatest moments of history, no problem. We're not just here to fix the world, we could just learn to. Take an easy trip for once."

There was something Y/n had been wanting to see for ages. Ever since Rose had seen her dad, way back when he died and she held him. Back before the Doctor was this man who he was now. He knew he couldn't do it though. Not because he would try and save his parents - he had learned from Rose. No, he just didn't want the Doctor or Rose to see back then. He didn't want them to know. He had been curious though... For so long. He couldn't remember them much, and had forgotten their voices ages ago.

"I'd like a concert," Y/n answered. "What do you think, Rose?"

She gave a small smile, as if she'd seen Y/n's thoughts in that moment but was too polite to call him out. "Ian Durey and the Blockheads it is." The TARDIS jerked when the Doctor began to go, but that was usual. What was not usual, was when the Doctor took a hammer from under the desk and began to slam parts of the control panel with it. Needless to say, when they all landed Y/n was the first one out. He felt annoyed seeing that. Even... a little sick to his stomach. He didn't know why - he'd never been motion sick before. He thought best not to question it.

Not that he wasn't plenty distracted when he and the other two exited the TARDIS to realize they were absolutely not anywhere near a concert being set up in 1979. In fact, they were in-

"1879," the Doctor realized when they were faced with men on horses wearing red coats and cocking guns they pointed into the trio's faces. "Same difference." Y/n glared at him, but the Doctor only winked in response.

"You will explain your presence," one of the armed men demanded. "And the nakedness of this girl." Y/n smirked and as if sensing it, without looking over, Rose elbowed him. Now was not the time to be flaunting how right he had been to dress the way he had, and not the way he usually did.

When the Doctor spoke again, he had a Scottish accent on and Y/n's eyes widened in surprise. Since when could he do that? "Are we in Scotland?"

"How can you be ignorant of that?" The same man spoke again, seeming seconds away of shooting them all. Y/n wasn't concerned for himself... except he had no idea how to explain why the bullets wouldn't kill him. The more pressing matter was definitely the other two though.

The Doctor began to bullshit and Y/n felt his muscles tense. "Oh- I- I'm dazed and confused. I've been chasing this wee naked child over hill and over dale. My partner is usually the navigator, so I trust him to lead the way." The Doctor motioned to Y/n with a head tilt, then looked at Rose. "Isn't that right, you timorous beastie?" He seemed a little hesitant, and Y/n had the thought pass of how fast he'd have to move to cover both of them when the bullets began firing.

Rose only made it worst. "Och, aye. I've been... oot about aboot."

"Please stop," Y/n whispered, shaking his head. Y/n hadn't heard many Scottsmen speak, but after the Doctor's fairly believable go at it, her complete failure was even clear to him.

"Hoots, mon?" Rose tried again.

"No Y/n's right, seriously, stop," the Doctor followed up.

The man on the horse spoke again. "Will you identify yourself, sir?"

"I'm Doctor James McCrimmon from the township of Balamory," the Doctor answered, switching gears again immediately. "I have my credentials if I may?" He moved his hand toward his pocket, drawing out his psychic paper when given the go ahead. He flashed it at the man. "As you can see, a doctorate from the University of Edinburgh." He showed it around willingly, and Y/n felt quite proud of the Doctor's ability to pull off a lie. Not to those who knew him, but when it mattered at least. "I trained under Doctor Bell himself."

Suddenly a woman's voice rang out. "Let them approach."

The uniformed man hesitated. "I don't think that's wise, ma'am."

"Let them approach," the woman demanded again, this time with attitude.

Obviously he didn't want to, but the woman must have been the final say because he finally conceded with, "You will approach the carriage, and show all due deference."

So they approached. The carriage door opened and there sat an older woman who looked rather comfortable in the company of strangers. "Rose, Y/n," the Doctor began. "Might I introduce you to Her Majesty Queen Victoria, Empress of India and Defender of the Faith."

"Oh my god," Y/n whispered, eyes widening. Aliens were one thing, but someone so staple in their own history? That was what tripped Y/n up, out of all the things they'd seen. This was just too close to home. Too hard to separate and look at logically.

Rose handled it better. "Rose Tyler, ma'am," she greeted politely. "And... my apologies, for being so naked."

"I've had five daughters," the Queen dismissed. "It's nothing to me. Who's the young man on the other side of you now, who looks at me as if I've grown three heads?"

This time it was the Doctor who elbowed Y/n. "I-" Y/n cleared his throat. "Y/n, ma'am. Sorry."

She smiled, obviously enjoying herself. "No worries." Her eyes moved to the Doctor. "How about you, Doctor? Why don't you show me those credentials?" He did, handing them over. "Why didn't you say so immediately?" She seemed baffle,d and suddenly Y/n was nervous as to what she'd found. "It states clearly here that you've been appointed by the Lord Provost as my protector."

"Does it?" He looked at Y/n, who shrugged. "Yes he does," he continued, more confident. "Good. Good. Erm, then let me ask, why is Your Majesty travelling by road when there's a train all the way in Aberdeen?"

"A tree on the line," she answered smoothly.

"By accident?" The Doctor pressed.

Queen Victoria seemed to find that question tiresome. "I am the Queen of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland. Everything around me tends to be planned?"

"An assassination attempt?" The Doctor seemed to be trying to understand something that seemed trivial to Y/n, but he had long since learned to not question the Doctor.

"What seriously?" Rose seemed stunned, just as Y/n was gathering his senses, as if she'd taken it into her to give him a break. "There's people out to kill you?"

"I'm quite used to staring down the barrel of a gun," the Queen reassured, though it wasn't reassuring at all.

The man on the horse from earlier spoke again. "Sir Robert Macleish lives but ten miles hence. We've sent word ahead. He'll shelter us for tonight, then we can reach our destination in the morning."

"This Doctor and his... timorous beastie will come with us." There was humor in her eyes. "As well as the silent one." Y/n ducked his head in embarrassment. The guard, which seemed to be what the man on the horse was, accepted that and then got them all moving again. He made a comment about the coming of nightfall, and Y/n found himself pleasantly surprised when the Queen responded, "Indeed. And there are stories of wolves in these parts. Fanciful tales, intended to scare children, but good for the blood I think." She looked ahead. "Drive on."

They all began walking and Y/n felt himself get awkward with all the guards watching him and he moved closer to the Doctor, nearly reaching out to take the man's hand. And then a few guards gave him a look of startled disgust and Y/n remembered what time they were in and felt a pang in his chest. He had to pretend all over again. The Doctor and Rose could be together wherever they were - whenever - but Y/n had to restrain himself. He dropped behind at the thought, distracting the movement that had been him about to reach out as pushing hair out of his face. It didn't fool the guards who knew what he had been doing anyway, so Y/n dropped back behind the Doctor and Rose. They looked at him but he just looked away, swallowing his awkwardness.

They arrived toward evening. The Queen was helped out as the Master of the house approached. "Your Majesty," the man greeted, bowing deeply.

"Sir Robert," the Queen returned brightly. "My apologies for the emergency. And how is Lady Isobel?"

"She's..." And then he hesitated, and Y/n felt in his gut that same feeling he always got when he felt something was wrong. He found himself questioning whether the man's wife was sick, or something else entirely was going on. "Indisposed, I'm afraid. She's gone to Edinburgh for the season.." He hesitated again, and Y/n felt that same pang. This time he was quite sure something was wrong. "And she's taken the cook with her, the kitchens are barely stocked. I wouldn't blame Your Majesty if you wanted to ride on."

"Not at all," the Queen chuckled. "I've had quite enough carriage exercise, and this is charming, if rustic. It's my first visit to this house. My late husband spoke of it often, the Torchwood Estate."

At that Y/n jerked. "I'm sorry, the what Estate?" Everyone looked at him like he'd gone mad.

"Torchwood," Sir Robert answered. "It was my father's house." The Queen hadn't objected to Y/n cutting in, so the man continued. The way Y/n was looking at him, Sir Robert seemed to see that the man was thinking, and thinking was what he needed in that moment. "It's a very old house you see. Lots of dangers in the old wood. That's why my wife est you see. She's grown tired of the keep up and needed a break. Are you sure you don't want to continue?" The man looked directly into Y/n's eyes and Y/n felt his heart stop. What was he trying to tell him?

"Quite sure," Queen Victoria interrupted. "Now, shall we go inside?" Sir Robert fought a frown when he nodded, seeming to want to run away. The panic in his eyes was so clear to Y/n, he was shocked no one else could see it. Y/n couldn't interrupt the Queen again though - he'd already tested his boundary. They began to go in, Y/n's mind racing as he scanned the Estate, looking for something out of place.

Then his eyes landed on the staff. They were all bald, and staring at Y/n like they wanted to destroy him. The Doctor moved up next to Y/n. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know," Y/n responded. "Yet." Despite how he wanted to stop it, he had no reason other than his gut feeling. What was he to do but be wary if nothing else? So they went inside.

The group headed for a room with what looked to be a gigantic telescope. "And this," the Queen began. "I take it, is the famous endeavor."

"All my father's work," Sir Robert answered. "Built by his hand in his final years. It became something of an obsession. He spent his money on this, rather than caring for the house himself."

"I wish I'd met him, I like him." The Doctor was smiling and Y/n almost rolled his eyes. He'd know all about obsessions overtaking your personal life, wouldn't he? "The thing's beautiful, can I..." He motioned to the telescope.

"Help yourself," Sir Robert allowed.

Rose and the Doctor surged forward to inspect it, but Y/n hung back, slowly dawdling past the butlers who were standing too close to just be there for no reason. The others began to talk, but Y/n focused on them. "You guys follow your Master around a lot, don't you?"

The bald man in front responded. "How else are we to attend to his needs?"

Y/n shrugged. "I suppose that's fair, except didn't Sir Robert say that the kitchens were poorly staffed and understocked? Doesn't it make sense that you'd be cleaning such a large estate, or working in those kitchens which seem to need such work?"

Eyes locked hard, it seemed to be a contest to see who'd blink first. The man was obviously impressed when Y/n won, if still irritated in Y/n's pressing. "Are you disapproving of how I do my job?"

Shrugging casually, Y/n stepped past them finally. "Not my right to do so. That would be Sir Robert's right to say or not say."

"What about me now?" Sir Robert piped up.

"I was just saying that your staff hovering so much surprises me, since you were stating how the kitchens needed some help. I of course don't mean to offend or tell you how to run things, Sir Robert. I..." He hesitated, the lie coming to him too easily. "I come from a rather poor family. I don't know how things like this works, and it fascinates me."

Sir Robert was the only one who saw through the lie - other than Rose, who was paying attention closely now, cued into Y/n's habits that showed when he was suspicious about something. Sir Robert hesitated, as if considering using the excuse to dismiss the men, but then decided against it - that same fear flashing in his eyes again. "I like to have them around. With my wife gone, they keep me company."

Y/n nodded in understanding, but the two men locked eyes and Y/n knew immediately. There was something up here. It seemed too late though. He had no proof and if these men were dangerous enough to control Sir Robert so in his own house, they'd doomed themselves the second they walked in the door. Y/n had to be careful about this - especially because it seemed he's just placed a huge target on his back.

The Doctor spoke, shifting the subject. "It's a bit rubbish." Only then did they all remember the telescope. Even the Queen had been distracted, looking between Sir Robert and Y/n like she was picking up on the signals between the two men, but didn't know what they meant. "How many prisms has it got? Way too many!" The Doctor stood from where he'd been crouched to inspect the instrument before. "The magnification's over the top. That's a stupid kind of..." He turned to Rose. "Am I being rude again?"

"Yep," she confirmed, smiling.

"But it's pretty!" The Doctor continued. "Really, it's very pretty."

Y/n got distracted after that, his mind wandering as he ran through all the possibilities to try and figure out what was happening. He could talk to the Doctor later to get feedback, but he'd at least like to have some theories to throw out when the time came. They weren't aliens, surely. The Doctor seemed to be able to pick up on that sort of thing eventually. If that was the case, Y/n sure wouldn't know. What else could it be.

Someone nudged Y/n and he looked up to see Sir Robert of all people. He had reached out to touch Y/n. "You Doctor seems interested in children's stories and magic and the stars. How do you put up with him?" He was making a joke, but that's not why he had gotten Y/n's attention to tell it.

Smiling came easy. He knew Sir Robert had the answers and that he wanted to tell Y/n. All he could do for now was give hints, and that's all Y/n needed for now. "Stories, eh? I like those myself. What kind of stories."

"One about a wolf around these parts, like I told you about in the carriage," the Queen answered. The fact that Sir Roberts purposefully stayed quiet made Y/n listen more than it seemed he was supposed to. "His father and my husband were quite fond of it, and the Doctor asked him to tell it to us. I'd be lying if I said i wasn't curious myself, actually."

"It's said that-" Sir Roberts began.

"Excuse me, sir." the bald man from earlier interrupted, and when Y/n and Sir Roberts locked eyes again, Y/n looked over carefully, taking in the man, trying to pull secrets out with just a look. "Perhaps Her Majesty's party could go their rooms now. It's almost dark."

"Well that was rude," Y/n spoke up. Again all eyes were on him, and this time the Doctor and Y/n were picking up on the way Y/n and the bald man were glaring at each other, eyes locked. "The Master of the house was talking, and he was just about to tell us something very interesting. Even I wait until people are done talking, and I'm considered insolent." There was tangible tension in the room. Tension that seemed apparent only to those who could pick up on Y/n's small tells, and those who knew first hand that this was not as it appeared."

"Please forgive me, sir," the man apologized flatly. There was a threat in his voice, one that made Y/n go silent - especially when Sir Robert shot him a panicked look. "I only figured that you'd all want to rest before dinner."

Damn, that was a good excuse.

"What a lovely idea," the Queen gleefully spoke. "And some clothes for Miss Tyler, perhaps. Sir Robert, surely your wife left something behind?" The man nodded. "See to it. We shall dine at 7, and talk more of this.. wolf." At that the bald man simmered, and Y/n realized the connection. "After all, there is a full moon tonight."

Y/n's eyes widened. He had to hear this story... though, he didn't think he did have to actually.

The Doctor followed Y/n to his room. "This isn't where you'll be staying Doctor," one of the bald men said.

"I'll find it in a bit, just leave the door open. I need to find my friend." The man dressed as a butler hesitated, but couldn't find a good enough reason to stop this from happening, so he nodded and left. When the door closed behind them and they were safe from those outside, the Doctor rounded on Y/n. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

"The stories they mentioned earlier? They're true, and the men - the bald men - they're in one it. I don't think Sir Robert's wife is even gone off for some weather or old house, I think she's captured. Or dead." He shook his head. "I have no proof, only hunches and small noticings. But I'm telling you, Doctor. A wolf that only comes out on the full moon? The way the man interrupted Sir Robert from sharing the story. I think it's true, and I think it's coming after us tonight." It dawned on him then. "Or... after the Queen. No one else here alive is important, who should be here."

The Doctor considered all of this. "I believe you Y/n, I do. But we need proof, and that means we need to lay low and play innocent. You're brilliant, all you've gathered in such short time. I need you a bit longer before they try to kill you though and everything goes wrong. Do you trust me?" Y/n nodded immediately.

Rather unexpectedly, the Doctor grabbed Y/n's face and pulled him into a kiss then. He stepped backward, pressing his back to the door. Y/n kissed him back instantly, leaning into him. He hesitated, but when the Doctor kept kissing him, he found himself unable to help himself getting lost in it. His fingers threaded into the Doctor's hair and pulled their bodies closer. The Doctor's hands wandered, pulling and tugging on Y/n's shirt.

Just as quickly as it began, the kiss stopped and the Doctor was pushing him away. "Alright." The his voice was a little lower, his eyes blown just a bit. "I've been wanting to do that all day."

Y/n scoffed. "You snogged me like that to, what, blow off steam?"

The Doctor bit his lip, shaking his head before orienting his thoughts again. "I needed a reason to be in here that wouldn't incriminate us. They can suspect you know something, so you keep the attention on you. You're the diversion. While they're worried about you finding out, I'll poke around and see what I can find. They won't expect me because-"

"They'll only think you came in here to snog me," Y/n realized.

"Not a thing you can fake, the results of that. It leaves a nice touch, the blown out eyes and the... the lips." Y/n realized that the Doctor's lips were a little bit more red than usual. "Anyway, pleasure and business mix every once in a while - grand time when it does. See you at dinner."

Y/n rested his forehead on the door when the Doctor left.

What in the world was he going to do with this man?

The smile hadn't left his face when he sat down for dinner, and despite him straightening his shirt, there was still a heat to his face. The Doctor wasn't much better. The affects were missed by everyone who wasn't paying attention, but were picked up by the ones that mattered. The butlers who obviously were not butlers. And the Doctor's planned seemed to work. They immediately dismissed the Doctor and focused their attention on Y/n. He was probably in danger... not that he could die, which would hopefully be the worst thing that could happen tonight.

The man who seemed to be in charge of the bald men stepped forward, speaking as he had when he'd challenged Y/n earlier and lost. "Your companion begs an apology. Her clothing has somewhat delayed her." Y/n's heart stopped. His grip on the table turned his knuckles white.

By some miracle, the Doctor seemed as if he had no worries at all. "Oh, that's alright. Save her a wee bit of ham." Y/n's mind was racing again, his eyes focusing on Sir Robert. The man seemed to be apologetic, but not too sorrowful. Y/n was picking up on the man's emotions quickly as he watched him more and more. He only hoped he was right. Either way, it really didn't matter. Either Rose was trapped and they had time to work this out and save her, or... she was too far past saving to take risks anyway. And if Y/n left this room, he'd be doing it alone, and that would put him in line next to be carted away. The Doctor needed some help at the very least.

"Besides, we're all waiting on Sir Robert!" the Doctor exclaimed, breaking the men out of their stare and grabbing their attention again. "You promised us a tale of nightmares."

"Indeed," Victoria agreed. "Since my husband's death I find myself with more of a taste for supernatural fiction."

"You must miss him," the Doctor vocalized. It was then that Y/n thought back to the first time the Doctor lost someone. His own wife, even. The mother of his children... If anyone understood, it would be him. The Doctor understood loss better than anyone.

As if seeing that understanding in the man across from her, the Queen allowed herself a moment to be vulnerable. It was a very Y/n thing to do. Perhaps... Y/n was influencing the Doctor, the same way the Doctor was influencing Y/n. "Oh, completely." She paused, the air in the room growing heavy with emotion. "And that's the charm of a ghost story, isn't it? Not the scares and chills, that's just for children, but the hope pf some contact with the great beyond. We all want some message from that place. It's the Creator's greatest mystery that we're allowed no such consolation." Her eyes became far away and Y/n looked at his hands. What would he have left behind if he'd never become immortal? What would people leave behind with him, when their time came? That thought. The thought of realizing yet again that he was going to lose one person after the other forever... except the Doctor. They were all the other had left now. The only person they each had a chance of keeping forever. "The dead stay silent, and we must wait." Her voice grew small, and then she shook her head and switched gears to being chipper once more. "Come, begin your tale, Sir Robert. There's a chill in the air. The wind is howling. Tell us of monsters."

Under the table, Y/n let his knuckles rub against the Doctor's hand softly. In response, the brunette man turned his palm upward, allowing Y/n to interlace their fingers. Both relaxed.

"The story goes back three hundred years," Sir Robert began. "Every full moon the howling rings through the valley. Next morning, live stock is found ripped apart and d-" he cut off, that same terrified look crossing his face. "Devoured." Y/n felt his leg twitch.

The head of the guard laughed off the spook in the air by saying, "Oh, tales like this just disguise the work of thieves. Steal a sheep and blame a wolf - simple as that."

Robert was having none of that. "But sometimes a child goes missing," he insisted, pushing it to try and drive his point home. It seemed to be written off as dramatics by everyone else in the room. Everyone except Y/n who was listening intently, and the Doctor, who Y/n knew was listening even though he gave no note of it. "Once in a generation, a boy will vanish from his homestead.

Y/n knew the man holding his hand had questions, but if they were going the route of keeping attention on Y/n, Y/n had to be the one to ask. "Is there anything that tells what this thing looks like?"

"Drawings and wood carvings," Sir Robert affirmed. "And it's not merely a wolf, it's more than that. This is a man who becomes a wolf." He drove each word at Y/n, saying much more than just a story. What had he seen? Risked, to tell Y/n this?

"A werewolf," Y/n voiced, resting his elbows on the table.

"What a neat little story." The Doctor was smiling, shaking his head in the same way the head of the guard was.

"My father didn't treat it as a story," Sir Robert said, but his interest was as invested in convincing the Doctor as the bald men were worried he was someone to worry about. The plan was working, at least. "He said it was fact. He even claimed to have communed with the beast, to have learned its purpose. I should have listened."

The bald man began to move and Y/n went into protective mode. "Of course, it was your father's passion. I'm sure you miss him and wished to have listened more. Engaged with him." Sir Robert half halfheartedly nodded.

"The thing was, his work was hindered. He made enemies." This time Sir Robert focused on Y/n purposefully, eyes boring into Y/n's very soul. "There's a monastery in the Glen of St Catherine. The Brethren opposed my father's investigations."

"Perhaps they thought his work ungodly," the Queen suggested. That was when it clicked for Y/n, his eyes wandering to the bald men. The men who were monks, and who were also mumbling incoherently nonsense in a foreign language that set Y/n's hair standing up.

"That's what I thought," Sir Robert agreed. "But now I wonder. What if they had a different reason for wanting to keep the story quiet? What if they turned from God and worshiped the wolf?"

"I think..." Y/n drawled, his hand tightening around the Doctor's. "It's time to make a new plan, Doctor. I don't think its going to do any good to play nice."

The Doctor's eyes widened. "Right." He turned around rather sharply, dropping Y/n's hand in favor of moving to his feet. They weren't getting any more information now - they had to find Rose. Chaos broke out, the Queen and the head guard trying to figure out why the Doctor and Y/n were so upset, Sir Robert apologizing because they had his wife, and the Doctor demanding to know where Rose was. There sat Y/n in the middle of it all, trying to be more productive than the confusion and the guilt and the yelling at people who were not going to respond.

"Doctor!" Y/n called, trying to knock sense into him.

The man looked over and he took a deep breath in. "Sir Robert, come on!" The three men took off down the hall. Sir Robert lead the other two to the basement, where a bunch of people were chained up and trying to pull to freedom as a werewolf grew to a dangerous form not even five feet from them.

Rose was so amazing, lord.

"Where have you been?" The blonde demanded.

"I missed you too," Y/n shot back. The joke didn't last long though, because soon they were all distracted by everyone scattering in a grab for freedom. All the women but Rose were rushed to the kitchens and the men all but Y/n and the Doctor were armed. There was a noise and the Doctor dipped from the room for a moment only to come bolting back, grabbing Rose's hand. She grabbed Y/n's and the train pull got them all out of the room and stay together at the same time. They made it just behind the line of guns just in time for the weapons to go off as the wolf itself turned around the corner in full force.

The Doctor took charge when the thing bolted from the bullets. "All right, you men, we should retreat upstairs. Come with me."

"I'll not retreat," the ground's keeper insisted. "The battle's done. There's no creature on God's earth could survive such an assault."

"You think not?" Y/n demanded, in no mood for people to act afool. He snagged a gun from one of the men, thrusting the thing into the Doctor's hand guiding the end of the barrel to his throat. "Shoot me please, Doctor." Without hesitation, the Doctor obeyed, knowing Y/n would be okay in a few seconds. There were some startled screams and a moment of darkness as Y/n passed out only a few seconds, but then he awoke and men stood around him, stunned. "Like I said," Y/n grumbled as he stood up again. "You think not? That's what I thought, listen to the Doctor now."

Soon they were all heading their way upstairs, just in time for the halls behind them to echo with the thing's roar. "Well at least you're alive," the Doctor reminded as the ground keeper's face grew ashen pale. They ran up, Sir Robert calling the Queen. She was running down the stairs to greet them.

"What's going on?" The older woman demanded. "I heard such horrible noises."

"Ma'am, we've got to get out," Sir Robert urged. "But what of Father Angelo, is he still here?"

The woman hesitated then responded, "Captain Reynolds disposed of him." Sure.

The Doctor, who'd left the room to check the front door, returned just then to deliver only bad news. "The front door is boarded shut. Pardon me, Your Majesty, you'll have to leg it out a window." The group moved to a window, only to get shot at and have it quickly proven that windows were as much not an options as the sealed door was.

"I reckon the monkey-boys want us to stay inside," the Doctor sighed.

"Do they know who I am?" the Queen demanded.

"Yeah," Rose answered. "That's why they want you. The wolf's got you lined up for a... a biting."

The Queen was not having that. "Now stop this talk. There can't be an actual wolf." Just then a howl broke through the house and Y/n had to bite back a laugh.

In the end, believing or not, they all took off running (after some snarky banter, but that was usual) and were all barely saved as they turned the corner and the wolf almost took them over, just in time for that head guard who Y/n realized he did not know the name of. The man tried to stay behind to give the others time to retreat, but now it was Y/n's turn not to tolerate nonsense.

"Now you listen to me," Y/n snapped with such authority that even the Queen didn't speak and payed attention. "I don't care who you are or what you've done or believe. I've got you all alive this far, and I've got plenty of witnesses that says I will do much better than you will facing down something that will absolutely kill you. Y/n ripped the gun from the man's hand. "Now go!"

"Why are you always staying behind?" Rose demanded, visibly stressed. "Just because you come back to life doesn't mean it won't hurt when that thing slices you up."

Y/n sighed. "It's my shtick, Rose, haven't you realized yet? I'm not good in stress anyway, I'm good for sacrificing myself and dealing with pain and doing the worst bits. You two are the brains, and you'll need as many hands as possible. Go."

"But-" Rose began.

"GO!" Y/n interrupted. "We can talk later."

Rose didn't listen at first. Instead she popped up on her tippy toes and caught Y/n's lips in hers. "You're an amazing man, Y/n." Y/n smiled and they finally all went, leaving Y/n behind like always to face the biggest problem on his own. It only made sense that he'd been given immortality. He was meant for this role. What he'd said had been truth, and everyone knew it. Y/n was the one who took the hardest hits because he could stand them better than anyone else. He was perhaps the only one who could stand them at all. Rose was right too, it didn't stop it from hurting, but he'd rather someone not die to spare him a bit of aching.

Everyone made it into the room, but Rose lingered, and that was why she was the one who got to watch Y/n get ripped apart. The last thing Y/n saw before the world went black and his bones snapped like twigs was the Doctor pulling Rose into the room so Y/n was out of sight.

When Y/n awoke again, he was too afraid to move in case it reawakened the memories of the last time his body had moved. When it had broken and snapped and caved in and his existence had become pain and loss. He just lay there, breathing, alone and cold in the silent darkness. He expected some kind of soreness or stiffness, but neither bothered him. His body was completely healed as if it had never once had anything wrong with it ever.

It was only when he heard a scream that he made his way to his feet, running after it to see what was wrong. As if on cue, there was Sir Robert standing with an ax or a sword or something, facing down that stupid beast. "Okay," Y/n growled, walking up. Sir Robert's eyes went wide. "Yes, I'm still alive. Now get into those doors you idiot, dying for a cause is my job!"

Sir Robert looked at Y/n, reaching out a hand to rest on his shoulder. "There is more to life than dying to protect everyone else, Y/n. You're brave, and amazing, but don't take this from me. I need to atone. I need to-" A roar echoed and the two men turned to see the wolf. Y/n stepped forward, screaming back. The wolf saw Y/n and froze, stunned.Y/n could practically see the thing recalling the memory of killing the man who stood before him now, completely fine.

"You think you will fear nothing," Y/n snarled, hunched over with his lip curled back. He looked quite wolfish himself, and the actual roof in the hallway seemed to take a step back. "Get back. GET BACK!" And by some insanity, the thing obeyed. "You're right, Robert. There is more to life than dying for a cause. You have a wife who cares about you, and I have watched far too many people die. Let me make a difference. Let me be the one who saves lives for once. Please, go inside." Sir Robert hesitated then nodded, stepping away from the door and into the adjacent hallway, out of range of the beast. There was a moment's pause where no one was sure what to do. Then the door behind Y/n opened and a hand wrapped around his arm and he was yanked back. The beast ran after him, whatever spell broken, and then-

Light.

So much light.

Y/n ended up on the ground, curled in a ball away from the light. He was so tired. He didn't ever want to move from that spot. Perhaps he could not negotiate never, but he could claim now. So he closed his eyes and did not move for a very long time. Because he was allowed that, I think. And so did everyone else.

When Y/n did move again, it was only to walk out of the estate and across the land they'd crossed what seemed ages ago to make his way back to the TARDIS, leaving the wrapping up to the Doctor and Rose.

He had a long time to himself in the quiet. A very long time. Far too long a time. He leaned against the control panel, hands flat on the controls, eyebrows knit together.

Finally, he spoke.

"I know you gave me his memories," Y/n told the control panel. "I know you were there when Rose was using your power. I felt you. Heard your voice. You told me his story. One that wasn't yours to tell. And now I know his life - his entire life, as if I lived it myself - and I have memories that aren't mine. That don't belong to me. How am I supposed to tell him that? How would I ever expect him to be okay with me knowing EVERYTHING? His life is clearer to me than my own." Y/n sighed, rubbing his face. "I can't die, but I can save people. I can lessen the burden he carries on his shoulders. The way he remembers each and every death and it hurts him. I took that upon myself, you know. And the wait of it all. The weight he must have, knowing that he can save one life and strand me and Rose here, or that he won't be able to save anyone's life ever again.

"Not to mention, he can die! He only regenerates when he's in the process of dying. If someone kills him before he regenerates, that's it. It's over. No more Doctor. For the first time maybe ever, it's not him who had to be afraid of losing someone because they might not live as long as him." Y/n sighed, feeling his heart fall slowly into his stomach. "Not to mention... I'm going to have to say goodbye to Rose someday, aren't I?" He looked up at the TARDIS around him, tears coming to his eyes. "How am I ever going to say goodbye to her now that we...?" His head fell forward as he sighed. After a second his hands tightened into fists as he stared at the floor under his feet. His gaze hardened. "I won't, you hear me? Not for a long time. A REALLY long time. We have so much time left together. She won't die or leave us. Not unless by choice, and I don't think she would leave if given the option. I'm going to protect her. You hear me?" He pushed off the panel, standing tall. "I don't care if I have to die every time we go out. I'm going to protect everyone."

It was a vow he would learn to regret.

The TARDIS door opened with two very nervous people entering the box that was bigger on the inside, expecting to see a very upset Y/n. Instead, they were greeted by a wide, brilliant smile and sparkling eyes as the man that had left in the middle of the night and spent all that time alone because Rose and the Doctor had to wrap things up with the Queen, leaned against the control panel like he knew they'd been about to enter. "You guys ready to go?"

Rose was the first one to answer. She wasn't smiling. "Y/n?"

The man turned away from her, beginning to distract himself by running his hands along the switches and buttons he wasn't completely familiar with yet. "That's my name. Where do you want to go this time, Rose? I'm sure you'd be a better person to give suggestions, Doctor, but I could shoot some ideas through history if we wanted to stay on Earth."

There was a moment of quiet where the Doctor and Rose had a silent argument before they stopped just in time for Y/n to finally turn around. "Y/n can we talk?" Rose asked gently, her smile small and soft.

Instantly Y/n was shot with terror. "Uh-" He looked at the TARDIS wall, trying to let the light make the horrible feeling in his chest go away. Had they finally decided he was useless and more a burden than anything and wanted him to go home? Was he too reckless and had upset them? Was he getting annoying, wanting to learn how to drive the TARDIS? Had he been rushing things by trying to be with both of them? Had... had they learned that they liked being together and not with him? "Talk about what?" Y/n finally asked, his gaze finally moving from the wall as he turned his back to them, trying to memorize the TARDIS so that he'd remember her as long as possible when he was gone.

Arms suddenly wrapped around his waist, looping under his arms. A face pressed to his back. He tensed, unsure of what was happening. "I love you."

Y/n was stunned. "I love you too, Rose." Her arms loosened, allowing Y/n to turn around to face, her, unsure of what was on her mind. "But?"

"But nothing," the blonde assured. "You just need to understand... losing you is terrible. And I know that you don't stay dead when you die, but- before you were immortal you were bad enough, but now you don't even try to stay alive anymore. It's really got me worried."

This was even more confusing. "I can't die, Rose."

"Do you want to?" That was the Doctor, and when Y/n looked at him, there was a look in his eyes that made Y/n feel terrible. This man had watched his whole planet and everyone he cared about die. After that, he had lost every friend and sometimes even more. The way he looked at Y/n now was not necessarily fear, because he didn't have to worry about Y/n dying. It was exhaustion. It was the face of a man who was tired watching his loved ones die.

"Of course I don't," Y/n answered honestly. Dying sucked. He hadn't had much experience with the process - the worst he'd had was last night when he'd felt his body shatter and then woken up perfectly fine and in one piece, with the memory still clear in his head. He'd felt insane, which had never happened before. None of his experiences dying had been good, and last night had shown him just how terrible it could be. It had also made him wonder... how far did this go? Could he be vaporized and still return completely fine, or if he was reduced to ashes, would he stay dead? Honestly, he didn't want to find out. Vaporizing looked painful and he didn't want that in his head. Not like he had the feeling of teeth ripping his chest and stomach into shreds ingrained in his brain with a clarity that still had him unsettled.

The Doctor pursed his lips. "Why did you?"

Y/n scoffed. "What, you're mad that I died when I did it to save all those people, knowing I would come back?"

That seemed to bother both of them. "We both watched you die last night, Y/n. In really unpleasant ways," Rose said softly, her hand stroking his chest comfortingly, as if to calm him down. He would be lying if he said it didn't work even a little. "You had the Doctor shoot you for goodness sake."

"He did it," Y/n reasoned weakly. "I-" He swallowed. "I didn't think it bothered you. I came back."

"I thought so too," the Doctor agreed. "That's why I did it." There was a short pause where the two men looked at each other, and Y/n was suddenly glad he could only see the Doctor's past feelings and thoughts, and not what was going through the Timelord's head now. "Then I watched you bleed out on that floor, and it was very real and you were very dead, and I have that memory now." He shrugged, obviously as uncomfortable with the conversation as Y/n was.

Y/n wondered absently how long Rose had taken to talk him into doing this at all.

"I'm going to be okay," Y/n reassured.

Something odd happened then. They were still looking at each other when they were hit by the same memory, almost watching it be recalled in the other person's mind. Somehow, that made it even harder to bare.

"I'm going to be okay, Dad, don't worry."

There was terror in every part of my... his body. I knew it more clearly than ever now, even though I also knew that I was seeing it from his eyes. The last time he was a dad with his kid. I was seeing it from his eyes so I knew that it was... both of our bodies, I guess. Just for a moment. For that memory, I allowed myself to make it personal. I allowed myself to become the Doctor, staring at his kid and hoping with ever fiber in his being that they would see each other again when it came time.

"We both will be." The woman smiled, hand reaching out to touch... my face. Her smile was warm and soft and compassionate. The same fear coursing through me, reflected in her eyes. They'd already lost so much. How much more could they all handle?

Y/n looked away, but he didn't miss the bewildered expression on the Doctor's face. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I just... want to be useful, I guess."

Rose's hands gripped Y/n's face, forcing the man to look at her when she spoke to him. "You don't need to be useful, Y/n. You are, don't get me wrong, but that's not why you're here. You're here because you're apart of us, and we care about you, and that is plenty enough. You're here because you chose to be here and then kept choosing to be here despite everything. THAT is the only reason you're here, do you understand me?" After a second, Y/n nodded. "I know you feel obligated to save people, just... please, you're important too. Even if you come back, it's going to start taking its toll on you eventually. Remember that."

Y/n allowed himself to relax into her touch. He looked into her eyes and saw the woman he never met. The care in her eyes matched Rose's, as much as the determination and care. They didn't really look alike, but their love was the same, as it was the same for everyone who felt it - one way or another. "Okay." He smiled, and Rose relaxed. "Is this you asking me not to die?"

Rose chuckled, shaking her head. "I never thought I'd have to ask that of you honestly." She shook her head, her hands dropping. "But no. Just... care about yourself as much as you care about other people. You're important too. That's all I'm asking. Just because you can do something, doesn't mean you should."

That was fair.

"Now," the Doctor said, drawing the attention of the other two. "We have adventuring to do. Any suggestions?" Rose and Y/n parted so Y/n could join the Doctor at the control panel. Rose leaned against the wall across from them, crossing her arms and smiling. She looked at lot happier now. Y/n realized she'd probably been terrified of seeing Y/n die again, carrying a weight with that fear that had drug her down enough that now, she felt light enough to have a bounce in her step. She recognized that it was going to happen again, but at the very least it wouldn't happen often, like it had been.

"You pick," Y/n sighed. "I think you deserve a turn."

The Doctor's face began to light up with a smile. "So be it."

153 notes · View notes

ratsoh-writes · 4 years

Note

Dunno if you still take asks rat this time but...SO who is in med school studying skeletal anatomy. They ask skelebonefriend to be their model like: "I need those carpals, can I see them, hun?" or "Can I see your neck, love? Yeah, I need to to see those cervicals, thank you!". SO is not pushy about it though, skelebae can decline, no hard feelings. But TBH, it's just an excuse to touch their Vertebae lmao. This ask could get raunchy if you want it to ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° ) ~

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°). nice try anon, but this is a clean Christian blog, so no hanky panky here.

Sans: he has like no shame at all, and doesn’t mind stripping in the name of science. Just expect your ears to bleed from all the nude and bone puns. He’s in his element right now

Papyrus: he’ll agree but it’s obvious he’s super uncomfy. He’ll politely decline to labeling anything below the belt.

Star: he agrees but with one rule: for every piece of clothing he takes off, you have to take one off too~ (ok I lied, Star is just too much of a flirt to keep this completely innocent)

Honey: he agrees as long as this doesn’t leave the room. He blushes harder and harder with each bone labeled. If you ask if he wants to quit, he’ll stubbornly insist he’s fine.

Red: he’s just like sans, totally cool but with waaay dirtier puns. Normally he’ll be flirting up a storm, but he’s kinda caught up in helping you memorize the bones. Reds a pretty good study partner in this area

Edge: he was going to say no, but then red called him a pussy. he stoically stands there as you label, correcting you if you get one wrong. Edge won’t let you touch his spine or ribs though. He’s very ticklish. He’s treating this like he’s doing you a big favor. Make sure you praise him later.

Mal: oh he’s onto your ulterior motives the second you ask. He’ll play dumb though and be completely calm the whole time. Might even read a book while you label him and stuff. He’s a diva, and likes it when his partners come to him

Cash: he treats it like it’s a catwalk, and strikes dumb poses the whole time. You’re lucky if you learn anything really. Cash is having way too much fun right now

Oak: he’ll be a bit embarrassed but as long as there’s no pictures involved he’ll help. Like sans he puns the entire time, but it’s more for his sake than yours

Willow: oooohh man. He agrees at first, but once you move on to the ribs, he’ll realize that you meant ALL his bones. This nerd might get so flustered that he actually jumps out the window to escape.

#undertale headcanons #undertale imagines #undertale #underswap #underfell #swapfell #horrortale

152 notes · View notes

whetstonefires · 4 years

Note

don't even know how likely it is that you'd write something like this anymore but. a fic where zack didn't actually think genesis died (DUDE HE CAN FLY HE'S NOT GONNA FALL TO DEATH!!) and at the very least postpone angeal's death by convincing him to help genesis who is presumably lying at the bottom of some abyss beneath an underground warehouse being very unconscious, probably out of exhaustion. then somehow the world's NOT ending by sephiroth maybe because there'd be actual FRIENDSHIP DEVELOPMENT?? (not cool that you robbed me of that in cc, squeenix) and they can go viva la revolution and dismantle shinra. or something. kunsel can help he has the brain cell

I had the hardest time answering this ask in a way that made sense to talk to you with but would be comprehensible to any followers who gave a damn as;dlfkjsdk.

Okay so I would probably write something like that, busted lmao, altho you’re right I got most of the SOLDIER trio feels out of my system already. But I feel like the obstacle would be...well it’s like two obstacles, wound together like indecent snakes.

So the obstacle is, Angeal’s motivations. In-universe, getting him to not die so he can come help the guy he wants to die because of and whom he imo expresses the sentiment that he should have personally killed is...tricky.

It’s not impossible because Zack is persuasive and Angeal is obviously still weak to Genesis in spite of everything or he would have killed him ages ago. But it’s tricky.

And on a metanarrative level it’s rendered much trickier by having so little to work with. How do you maneuver a couple of characters (specifically designed to fall apart no less) through a rapprochement when most of the estrangement happened offscreen?

We don’t know what Genesis said to Angeal to get him to defect, other than that it probably involved Project G. We don’t know how they got into the level of argument they were already in when Zack reaches Banora, whatever level exactly that was, other than that it presumably involved Angeal objecting to the Copies and the extermination of his hometown, but somehow left him feeling so conflicted and hopeless and helpless he didn’t do anything about those objections.

It’s really hard to do any concrete development of Angeal’s mental state at this point in the story, especially to put in the footholds for diverting his course from its predestined end point at the last minute, without those things to build on! And of course it’s even harder for my consistent PSP existence failure. 😔😔😔 i’m fake fan what can i do.

Anyway yeah I’d have to make up so much stuff, like their entire relationship arc, that’s the main/only reason I would probably not write this. I like to have slightly more footing in canon. Even when I’m doing things slightly less difficult than trying to sell a positive resolution to a tragic relationship arc.

Well, that and I’d have to put my heart behind the notion of saving Genesis as a good reason for doing anything, at this stage in the game. I’m not sure I could. Let him stay in the hole.

Stay in the hole Genesis! You stayed in your hole while Sephiroth was ending the world, didn’t you? Stay now! Be quiet! Cease to make trouble!

(Angeal’s temptation to take him out while he was down if they did find him unconscious would be a great drama scene because you know what, I bet he still couldn’t.

That might actually work...Zack brings up ‘actually having taken 15 minutes to think about it i don’t think he’s dead’ and Angeal postpones dying until the currently more dangerous monster is fully taken care of but then they get there and he. Can’t. Fucking do it. As much as he objectively knows it’s the Right Thing To Do. Cue more visible and hopefully more productive breakdown than the one he’s been continually having for most of the game, roll plot.

This still requires some way of detoxifying Genesis enough to live with but hey I’m not actually writing this thing.)

I keep doing these AUs and then folding out before they actually overthrow Shinra tho, because there are only so many ways to do that, and all the non-awful ones are super complicated. 😆 Maybe ending one with ‘and then SOLDIER Kunsel founded a shadow government’ would make a nice change.

#zack fair #angeal hewley #suicide mention #in that Angeal's plans for the day involve dying #Genesis Rhapsodos #ffvii #crisis core #ask meme #writing #i feel neither dragged nor complimented only Known alskfj;#hoc est meum #uselesseunoia #ask

20 notes · View notes

maria-scribbles · 4 years

Text

glitter + crimson (let’s start a riot)//part four

summary: carmen actually steps foot inside her own house after discovering her daughter isn’t the only teenager living there. the hurricane hurtling toward the island matches the tempest in sailor’s heart as she finally gets some long-overdue words off her chest that her mom isn’t very happy to hear and two friends inch closer and closer to crossing that metaphorical line.

word count: 6.6k+ (oops, i did it again 😅)

ship: jj maybank x oc (sailor flynn)

warnings n stuff: mentions of abuse/neglect, gambling addiction, child abandonment, being kicked out of home, fluff, swearing, underage drinking, flirting, having shitty dads, mentions of weed, star wars, and sailor’s unhealthy addiction to nutella, mention and direct quote of the percy jackson and the olympians series (again), subtle nod to new girl (i love seeing how many references i can make lmao)

a/n: first off, i just want to thank each and every one of you for your likes, reblogs, and especially your wonderful comments! they mean to world to me, seriously ❤ now, here comes the dramaaaaa! we get to dive into sailor’s complicated, turbulent relationship with her mother (sailor, like john b, has a very big, very real fear of being abandoned by people she loves because of her dad) before heading toward the canon timeline of the show. the quote about the sea near the beginning is from jaques cousteau, legendary french naval officer, marine explorer and filmmaker who co-created the aqua-lung and paved the way for modern scuba diving. he also pioneered marine conservation and discovered the wreck of the hmhs britannic, sister ship of the rms titanic! so overall, he was a pretty cool dude and i feel that he’d be a personal hero to ocean-loving sailor (maybe even kiara as well, considering her love of the environment/conservation).

unbetaed as usual so all mistakes are my b.

gif credit to @toesure (who has the most beautiful gifs, ngl)

~Masterlist~

part four: high tide

The sun’s just peeking its rays over the horizon, painting the deep blue sky the softest shades of pink and orange. Calm, steady waves lap against the shore and over Sailor’s bare feet as she stands alone on an empty and desolate beach, the only signs of life coming from the seagulls squawking overhead. The air is thick and sticky with early morning humidity, the type that makes it hard to breathe and frizzes the hell out of her wavy hair, and she can already feel moisture starting to collect on her skin.

Why’s she here again? She can’t remember a reason and come to think of it, she can’t remember exactly how she got here, either. Did she drive? She turns her back to the ocean and its entrancing pull to look for her truck but finds the surf shop is the only thing she can see clearly, the world surrounding it blurred in an incomprehensible mess of color; the sight should’ve caused anxiety to take root in her chest but somehow she finds herself unbothered, relaxed. Somehow, she feels at home.

“The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever.”

Sailor’s head snaps to the left at the sound of a painfully familiar voice. A tall, redheaded man now stands in what was only a few seconds ago an empty space, smiling out over the water with the brilliant colors of the sky reflecting in his green eyes.

“Dad?”

Ryan doesn’t seem to hear the incredulous tone in her voice or even the fact that she spoke at all as he turns to face her and asks a question of his own, “It’s true, don’t you think?”

Of course she does. The sea has had her under its captivating, magnetic spell ever since she first laid eyes on it when she was a toddler, a baby, even. Her parents always said she wanted to spend every waking moment at the beach, combing the sand for shells and staring out at the water, imagining what new discoveries were waiting for her in its depths. Her mouth moves on it’s own as she replies, “You know I do.”

It’s not what she wants to say at all. She wants so badly to yell at him, let out her frustrations and hurt and pain ‘how dare you leave us’ ‘what did I do wrong’ ‘why haven’t you come back yet’ but finds that she can’t form the words. It’s like she’s watching a video, or maybe reliving a memory -oh. It feels like a memory because it is one, she recognizes with a start, of the week before he took off and abandoned them for the very first time, leaving behind a gaping, bleeding wound that neither Sailor nor her mother ever managed to properly stitch back together.

Ryan’s smile widens. “Always got your eyes on the horizon, Starfish. Just like your old man.”

Her heart clenches at the old, familiar nickname that she hasn’t heard in years, like she’s looking at a favorite pair of childhood shoes or an old t-shirt from a family vacation long past and realizing she doesn’t fit in them anymore, that she’s moved on, and surprisingly, it doesn’t sting as much as she thought it would.

“Come on,” Her father says and when he reaches out to her, Sailor finds herself reaching back with a much smaller, eight-year old sized hand that’s swallowed by Ryan’s larger, calloused palm. “Think you can go fifteen feet today?”

“Fifteen? I’m gonna go twenty!” She declares confidently in her most grown-up voice, giggling when her dad beams and hoists her little body up into his arms, the stubble on his face tickling her skin as he plants a kiss on her cheek.

“That’s my girl.”

He runs into the surf, tossing a laughing Sailor into the ocean when it’s waist deep before they wade out, further and further until the sandy floor drops away from their feet and they’re left treading water.

“Ready, Starfish?”

“Ready!”

The sun breaks over the horizon and casts its golden light on the pair, turning their hair an identical shade of fiery red just as they dive below. She has to work harder to keep up with her father’s longer strokes but she does it and reaches the bottom the same time he does; he smiles widely and reaches out to quickly cup her cheek, pride shining clearly in his eyes and she beams back before turning away to scan the floor for any worthy shells. Finding a knobbed whelk a few feet away, she swims over to grab it before pushing off toward the surface, Ryan following close behind. The sun becomes brighter and brighter the closer she gets and just when her head breaks through the waves-

Sailor wakes.

The early morning sun shines across her eyes through the curtains as she stares up at the surfboard above her bed, the very shelf were the whelk from that day still sits, proudly displayed with her other finds. Yawning, she runs her hands over her face and blinks away the last threads of sleep still clinging to her lashes, along with the memory of her dream. Moments like that with her father were rare. Ryan was a blast to be around when he was happy doing something he wanted to do, like diving for shells, hitting up the bowling alley for a few games, or taking his old, beat up boat out into the marsh to fish for hours on end (never something mundane as doing the dishes or folding the laundry, no, those were children’s jobs and being an only kid, those responsibilities fell to Sailor.). Moments like that were when she felt that -naively, foolishly- her dad was actually proud of her, that he wasn’t horribly inconvenienced by her having the audacity to be his daughter, to be born, that maybe he loved her as much as she loved him.

Cold from a sudden shiver that runs through her body, she rolls onto her side to seek out the best human space heater she knows but her arm only finds empty sheets lacking warmth, her hand reaching for someone who’s no longer there. She frowns and sits up, fingers automatically running through her sleep mussed waves in a semi-futile attempt to fix them into something less resembling a bird’s nest. A quick check of the phone she doesn’t remember plugging in to charge reveals its just before 7 in the morning and her confusion over her missing bedmate only grows; JJ’s rarely ever conscious before 9 AM at the absolute earliest and almost never by his own volition unless surfing’s involved. Even Binx is gone from his usual spot at the end of the bed, leaving her truly alone in the tiny room.

On the floor alongside his boots, the backpack she never noticed him having yesterday is still where he dropped it with its zipper open wide, while his phone rests next to hers on the bedside table and Sailor feels an almost embarrassing wave of relief wash over her knowing he’s still here, that he didn’t just up and disappear in the middle of the night, that he stayed (of all the times he’s come to her before, only once did he leave before dawn and, after she’d frantically tracked him down at John B’s place, tears in her eyes and streaming down her face at the thought of him returning to the lion’s den that he called home, he held her close and promised to never do it again.). She pulls herself out of bed and crosses the room to pull on a random hoodie from the closet before pocketing her phone and padding into the hall, the wooden floor cool under her bare feet.

A demanding meow comes from the kitchen followed immediately by a vexed, “Binx, my dude. For the last time, you can’t have this.” JJ’s bright laugh echoes throughout the room when Binx meows again, this one more insistent than the last and the redhead smiles, quietly shuffling forward to lean against the wall. He doesn’t notice, instead holding a finger to his lips as he shushes the cat sitting on the counter beside him, then turns back to whatever he’s doing. “Be quiet, dumbass! You don’t wanna wake your mom up, do you?”

“I don’t know, sounds to me like he might need my help.”

He startles at her teasing voice, nearly dropping the butter knife in his hand as she steps forward and scoops Binx into her arms, pressing a kiss to his fuzzy cheek. “Is mean old J not feeding you, Binxy? That just won’t do!”

He rolls his eyes but the grin tugging the corners of his mouth upward betrays his amusement as he says sarcastically, “Yeah, I’m the bad guy for not giving the brat Nutella. Great.”

With a laugh, Sailor gives the cat another loving scratch behind the ears before gently setting him on the floor and hoisting herself onto the counter beside JJ, her legs swinging back and forth and lightly brushing against his side. “So...you’re up early.” She says, watching him scrape the last bit of Nutella out of the jar and smear it on some toast, another piece already made on the plate at his elbow.

“Yeah, I woke up and couldn’t go back to bed.” He shrugs, tossing the knife in the sink and the empty container into the trash; her stomach does a little flip when he brings his hand to his mouth and licks away the chocolate left behind on his thumb, then continues, “Sorry if I woke you up. I tried to be quiet but that shithead over there wouldn’t shut up.”

He nods his chin in the direction of a lounging Binx, stretched out on the back of the couch in the sun and she shakes her head. “Don’t worry, you didn’t. I-” She shrugs, too, and meets his blue-eyed gaze. “I guess I couldn’t sleep, either.”

“Bad dream?” JJ asks, holding the plate of toast out to her and she takes a piece with a grateful smile as she replies, “I’d call it more of a bittersweet memory.”

They both fall into a comfortable silence while they eat until he suddenly asks another question around a mouthful of breakfast, “About your dad?”

Sailor freezes mid-chew, her father’s green eyes flicking away from her best friend’s face toward the floor as she swallows thickly, her free hand anxiously clenching the fabric of her shorts. After a long, pregnant pause in which they finish their food and he puts the dirty plate in the sink, she finally says softly, “I’m sorry.”

“Huh?”

She apologizes again, staring down at the floor and swinging her legs back and forth, her bare feet hitting the cabinet with dull thuds.

“For what?” His brow furrows in confusion while he takes a step forward to stand between her legs, one hand reaching to hook a finger under her chin and lift her head so he can look her in the eye, the other resting on her knee. “Seriously, help me out here ‘cause I’m confused as fuck.”

“Because I feel guilty, okay?” She starts, eyelids briefly closing as she takes a deep breath before snapping open again and continuing before he can interrupt, “Here I am, getting upset over a stupid dream I had about my gambling addict dad that ditched me when your dad does that,” -she points to his bruised ribs- “and this,” -her palm rests on his cheek, thumb skimming over his scabbed lip- “and God, I just-”

“Whoa, hold up there, Sail.” JJ cuts her off, his free hand joining the other in cupping her face, “Just because your dad never hit you doesn’t mean you don’t have something to be pissed about. He abandoned you, stole your mom’s money, and made you feel like shit! You have a right to be mad as fuck about it.”

“But-”

“But nothing! We’re not having a fucking competition about who has the shittiest dad,” -He smirks devilishly, brushing a wayward red curl off her forehead- “because they both suck major dick. End of story.”

In spite of herself, Sailor snickers as she winds her arms around his neck and pulls him close, resting her head in the crook of his shoulder while his own arms slide around her waist. “We should start a club.” She jokes lightly and feels his snort of laughter against her ear in response.

“‘Shitty Dad Society,’” He declares proudly, “I call being president.”

“Well, I’m your VP! Binx’s our secretary- shit, I’ll be treasurer, too ‘cause I don’t trust you with any type of financial situation at all.”

He laughs again, hand tightening its grip on her waist and she smiles into his neck as he says, “That’s fair. We should make shirts.”

They settle into another comfortable silence after that, both more than happy to relax in the other’s arms and just be. It’s one of her favorite things about..whatever they are, the ease, the contentment, the familiarity felt when they’re together are sentiments she never, ever wants to lose and a thought, an exciting, dangerous thought pops into her head: what if he never has to leave?

“Come live with me.”

“...what?”

Oh, fuck, she just said that out loud, didn’t she? Brain, enter panic mode. The redhead abruptly pulls out of his embrace and buries her already blushing face into shaking hands, closing her eyes tight for good measure, stammering between her fingers, “Nothing, nothing! I said nothing!”

“Pretty sure you said something,” His hands encircle her wrists and gently pull them down to her lap. “And it wasn’t ‘nothing.’”

She stares down at their entwined fingers resting on her thighs, the backs of his hands deliriously warm against her exposed skin and grounding her to this (scary, exciting, vulnerable) moment, and blurts out in a rush, “I said, come live here. With me.”

JJ doesn’t speak, but the way his hands almost imperceptibly tighten their hold on hers -she would’ve missed it if she hadn’t already been looking- compels her to raise her head and meet his eyes; the indescribable depth of the ocean is behind his gaze, as well as the barest hint of pure, brazen hope, and it says everything his mouth won’t.

“Remember yesterday, when you said you don’t know how much more you can take?” She asks. At his tight nod, she weaves her fingers even more intricately with his and admits softly, “Well, I’m not sure how much more I can take, either.”

Sailor’s eyes sweep over the cuts on his face with all the gentleness of a lover, his lip first, followed by the one on his cheekbone before meeting his again. “I can’t...I can’t see you hurt like this anymore.”

Blue stares into green for an insurmountable stretch of time, long enough that she starts to think that she should’ve just kept her big mouth shut, until he finally whispers, “Seriously?”

“J, I’ve never been more serious about something in my entire life. I can’t let him do this to you anymore.” She finishes with a shrug, “My mom’s never here, anyway. It’d be, uh, really nice to not be alone all the time ‘cause as much as I love him, Binx doesn’t count.”

His eyes become stormy at that casual admission of loneliness for just a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment before brightening into their natural blue, the same color of the sky on a clear day as he says simply, “Okay.”

“Seriously?” It’s her turn to ask it now and the smile that breaks over her face when he nods is one of unabashed relief; without thinking, she leans closer and presses her forehead to his. “Good.”

He smiles, too, and briefly lets his eyes fall shut at the contact as he jokes, “Just so you know, Flynn, I’m probably not gonna be the best roommate.”

“Please,” She giggles, freeing one of her hands to playfully push at his shoulder, “I live with the most spoiled, demanding cat in the world. I think I can handle you, Maybank.”

The teasing smirk on his face makes her heart beat a little faster. “We’ll see about that.”

Sailor decides to pretend she didn’t hear his loaded comment (she’s not quite ready to open up that particular can of worms just yet), instead pulling her phone from her hoodie pocket to check the time. “Alright, here’s the deal: in one,” -she glances at the time again because holy shit does she have the short-term memory of a fucking chimp- “two hours, we’re going shopping and, hey, don’t give me that look!” She laughs at the pained expression that crosses his face, “If you’re gonna live here, get ready to put in the work.”

JJ offers her a lazy salute with his free hand and she rolls her eyes, trying her best to ignore the butterflies in her stomach as he says coyly (again, damn him!), “Yes, ma’am.”

“Until then, though,” The redhead continues, hopping off the counter to grab his hand and starts pulling him toward the hall to her room, “We have a book to read and you have some Greek to mispronounce.”

“Fuck, you’re bossy.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it.”

It goes like this: for nearly three weeks, life for the pair is pretty damn good. The summer days pass the same as they had been, either spent lazing around with the rest of the pogues or working their variety of jobs -Sailor at the ice cream parlor, along with her weekly shell dives and the beginner surf classes she teaches for The Sandbar, JJ at the country club and doing whatever odd jobs he can find around the island- as June slowly bleeds into July. They find themselves doing everything together: shopping, cooking dinner, sharing her tiny room, and it’s so painfully domestic, so natural and so right that it hurts to wrap her head around it.

If their friends notice, none of them comment on it, even though she sees the looks sent their way whenever they both hop out of Sailor’s truck together (most are curtesy of eagle-eyed Kiara, but Pope and even the ever oblivious John B raise their eyebrows a few times). At night they continue to read through the Percy Jackson series, taking turns reading aloud each evening and for a short, blissful time, they let go of the burdens weighing heavy on their shoulders. For a while, everything is close to perfect.

Typically, predictably, it doesn’t last and when shit finally hits the fan, it happens in epic fashion because nothing is ever easy when they’re involved.

It happens a few days after the Fourth of July. It’s late-afternoon, Hurricane Agatha brewing off the coast causing the clouds to streak faster through the sky and, with the rest of their friends working or otherwise occupied, the two teenagers decide to spend a day lounging at home, getting in a few more chapters of The Battle of the Labyrinth and drinking the beer left over from a night of partying at John B’s house.

“’Jumping out a window five hundred feet above ground is not usually my idea of fun,’“ Sailor reads as she relaxes on the couch, book in one hand and can of PBR in the other, the wind blowing in through the open window ruffling her hair, “‘Especially when I’m wearing bronze wings and flapping my arms like a duck.’“

“I’ll drink to that,” JJ says, briefly lifting his head from her lap to chug the rest of his beer before settling back down, feet propped up on the couch’s arm. They’re both a little buzzed, having lost count of how many drinks they’ve downed but she’s had enough to make her start giggling at his comment as she struggles to keep reading while Binx, fed up with the noise, jumps down from his spot behind her and slinks down the hall to find some peace and quiet.

“Damn you, stop it!” She laughs harder as he pulls a ridiculous face at her pronunciation of Daedalus, then shoots her an impish grin and she responds by ‘accidentally’ dropping the paperback on his face. Both are so caught up in hysterics that they don’t notice the sound of a car pulling into the driveway or a key unlocking the front door.

“Sailor!”

The girl freezes at her name, green eyes widening at the sharp tone of her mother’s voice. Slowly, she turns her head to look over her shoulder where she stands, arms crossed, and she’s so shocked Carmen’s actually looking her in the eye that nothing comes out of her open mouth but an oh so eloquent “huh?”

“What the hell is going on here?” The older woman demands, moving around the couch before either teenager can react, and her eyes narrow when she catches sight of JJ’s head on her daughter’s thigh and the empty beer cans on the end table. “Are you two drunk? Get up, now.”

He hastily does as she asks, eyes downcast to the floor and shaking hands clenched at his sides; ignoring her mother’s glare, Sailor deliberately reaches over and rests one palm on top of his as she says tightly, “Nice to see you home for once, I’m surprised you remembered where it is.”

It’s a low blow and she knows it but she can’t find it in her fuzzy, alcohol-numbed brain to care when Carmen reels back like she’s been slapped before she seems to compose herself, mouth pressing into a thin line. “Sailor Giselle, don’t you dare talk to your mother like that!”

The redhead feels something inside her snap and she glares up at the only parent she has left, all but spitting her next words, “Then start acting like my mother! This is the first time I’ve seen you here in four months!”

“I had to come home after Rachel told me you were shacking up with some boy! Do you have any idea-”

“Rachel?!” Sailor explodes at the mention of their obnoxiously invasive old biddy of a neighbor whose sole mission in life is knowing everyone’s business, “God, that hag just can’t keep her nose out of anything can she?”

Carmen crosses her arms once again and glowers at her daughter. “You know how hard it is for me to be in here, Sailor. I asked her to keep an eye on you for me and I’m glad I did.”

The teenager stares at her in disbelief before barking a loud, humorless laugh. “Let me get this straight: you asked our neighbor to spy on me so you didn’t have to come home...so you didn’t have to actually put in some effort?” Carmen opens her mouth to defend herself but before any words can come out, Sailor continues, throwing her free hand in the air, “You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“This is my house!” Her mother thunders, not noticing the way the silent blond boy flinches at her yell and how her daughter tightens her grip on his hand. “This is my house and I can do whatever I damn well please, including having someone look out for you when I can’t.”

“When you won’t, you mean.” She scoffs, shaking her head in thinly-veiled disgust, “I’m doing just fine on my own, no thanks to you, Mom.”

“Does ‘doing just fine’ mean living alone with this kid?” Carmen spits and when she glances at JJ like he’s gum on the bottom of her shoe, Sailor’s finally had enough and takes a step toward the older woman with a furious glare.

“Will you just let that go? God! He’s my best friend and he needed somewhere to stay, that’s it!”

“I don’t care.” Turning to JJ, she demands coldly, “Go pack your shit and get out.”

“No.” Green eyes hardening into chips of emerald, the redhead grabs his other hand as he goes to leave the room and steps in front of him protectively. “He’s not going anywhere.”

Carmen pinches the bridge of her nose, her voice low as she threatens, “I swear to God, Sailor, either he leaves or I’ll make him leave.”

When she feels his whole body go rigid behind her, she knows her mom’s won this particular battle and before she can even turn to face him he’s disappeared down the hall to her room without a word. Sailor whirls to face her like the wind outside, red hair flying over her shoulder like a whip as she seethes, “How dare you.”

The older woman sighs like she’s the one hurting and crosses to the window before closing it with a firm hand. “Drop it, I’m done arguing.”

“I care about him, Mom, you can’t just kick him out!”

“I said drop it! I don’t give a shit how you feel about him, I’m not having your homeless boyfriend mooching-”

“Jesus Christ -his dad beats the shit out of him!”

The words ring out like a bell, loud and clear and impossible to ignore. Carmen freezes in the middle of picking up a discarded can, tan skin turning pale as she stares, mouth slightly agape, at her daughter; the girl stares back unflinching, and despite her heart’s rapid staccato in her chest, her next words cut like a knife.

“He’s not homeless, okay? But his dad hits him, all the damn time. You’re not gonna stand by and let that happen, are you?”

Her mother’s eyes soften -for a fleeting moment, she looks like her old, caring self again- before they harden to steel, the open expression on her face slamming closed with all the force of a screen door in a hurricane.

“I’m sorry -really, I am- but that’s not my problem.”

Sailor flinches at the icy edge in her voice and looks down at the floor, jaw clenched tight as she tries to blink away the sudden burning behind her eyes. “I...I don’t know you anymore. My mother would never say that.”

She hears Carmen heave another deep sigh as her footsteps slowly head toward the front entry, “You and I have a lot to talk about when I get back from work, Sailor.” She says, followed by the snatching of keys and the door handle turning. “And that boy had better be gone when I do.”

The redhead looks up from her feet, watching the door slam behind her mother’s retreating form before hastily making her way down the hall to her room and like that morning, the wave of relief that she feels when she sees JJ still sitting on her bed, realizing he’s still here, is downright embarrassing but she’s well past the point of caring. In a flash, Sailor’s in his arms, face pressed against his neck as she cries, “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.”

“Sail, you’ve gotta stop apologizing for things you can’t control.” He whispers when she eventually falls silent and she can’t stop the rough laughter bubbling in her chest, even as her whole world feels like it’s falling apart around her.

“Sorry.”

His own laugh is short and low in her ear, and then he’s pulling her closer as his hand draws soothing circles on her back. She lets herself relax for a brief moment, eyelids fluttering closed at his touch, before she takes a deep breath and pulls back to look him in the eye, hands carelessly wiping away the tears on her cheeks, “Help me pack.”

“...what?”

“When she kicked you out, she kicked me out, too.” She says matter-of-factly at JJ’s confused look while she abruptly kneels, pulling her old suitcase from under the bed and heaving it up onto the mattress.

“Okay, so she didn’t actually kick me out but she might as well have!” The redhead strides to her closet and starts picking out her favorite clothes, tossing them haphazardly onto the bed as she fumes, “God, I even told her about your dad -I’m sorry, shit I did it again- and she said she didn’t care! Not to mention she had our neighbor spy-”

“Sail!” She’s so caught up in her rant that she doesn’t notice when JJ moves to stand beside her, and only when he puts his hands on her shoulders does she stop short, a Kildare County High School sweatshirt dangling from her fingers; she can feel him watching her and when she flicks her gaze up to meet his, she’s not at all prepared for the tempest of emotions -admiration, pride, empathy, something else she can’t name- all crashing like the surf behind his eyes.

Blue. Oh so blue. It’s been her favorite color ever since she knew what colors were and she thinks her favorite shade has to be the one she finds in his eyes: bright, clear, and ever easy to drown in if she’s not careful.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” He says it in such a casual way that it’s impossible to think it’s not as intentional as the fingers that slowly tuck a stray curl behind her ear and the thumb that brushes along her flushed cheek.

She just shakes her head with a tiny, bashful smile and her words are an echo of a quiet, rainy night all those weeks ago, “I’m just doing what feels right.”

They fall into an easy rhythm after that, one that helps them both sober up as they fill her suitcase to the brim with everything Sailor thinks she’ll need for a long stay, wherever she ends up. The Chateau makes the most sense of course, but with the DCS breathing down John B’s neck recently, she’s not sure how viable of an option that is but there’s one thing she knows for sure: there’s no way in hell she’s coming back here any time soon. It hurts to leave her shell collection behind -for a brief, dark moment she toys with the idea of tearing the shelf down and smashing them all until they’re turned to dust but she pushes that thought away- so she takes her favorite, the lightning whelk that reminds her of JJ and that day on the beach, and gently tucks it away in her backpack to ease the sting, as a promise to one day return for the rest.

“Jackpot!” JJ exclaims and she looks up to find him on the floor by her chair, pulling up the loose wood board that hides her secret stash of booze and money and reaching in to snag a nearly full bottle of Jack Daniels, holding it above his head with a triumphant smile.

“Shit, I forgot that was even in there,” She replies as she kneels beside him and snatches the whiskey from his hand before he can take a swig, slipping it into her backpack, “Not yet.”

“Oh, come on,” He laughs when she rolls her eyes at his pout and reaches into the dark space to pull out an old plastic lunchbox, along with a small flask that gets thrown in her bag without a second glance. “Boooo.”

“Patience,” She teases, opening the cracked lid to take all of the cash inside and stuffs it into the ziploc bag that doubles as a purse (“it’s cheap and waterproof, what more do I need?” was her argument when Kiara asked her why she didn’t have an actual handbag), which she then stuffs in her backpack. “We can get drunk after we get out of here.”

“You had me at ‘drunk,’“ He slides the floorboard back into place after Sailor tosses the empty lunchbox inside and then stands, pulling her up alongside him with his hand in hers, the other reaching out to grab the handle of her suitcase. “Ready when you are.”

The redhead takes one last look around her room, from the assortment of shells and pictures on one wall to her poster of Bethany Hamilton on the other and everything in between -her sanctuary for the longest time- before turning away from the familiar comfort of the old to face the enticing uncertainty of the new. “Let’s go.”

After a quick stop in the bathroom to grab her shampoo, conditioner, and toothbrush -no way in hell is she gonna share any of those with the boys- then the kitchen to grab some food for Binx and the cat himself from the back of the couch (surprisingly, he doesn’t put up much of a fight), they head outside and throw her suitcase and their backpacks in the bed of the truck along with her surfboard.

“John B’s probably gonna be pissed about the cat,” JJ says, leaning against the passenger door with his arms crossed, smirking as she gives him a flat look and unceremoniously dumps Binx onto the bench seat through the driver’s side window.

“Well, John B’s just gonna -stay, Binxy!- have to get used to it. I’m not leaving him behind.”

Across the street, Rachel perches on her porch as she watches the two teenagers with her beady little eyes and Sailor, feeling particularly defiant, grins wickedly. “J, watch this.” Waving to the woman to catch her attention she calls over the wind, “Hey, Rachel!” before slowly extending both middle fingers toward her, one at a time. “That one’s for my mom and this one’s for you, you nosy bitch!”

He instantly joins in and both hold their hands high, cackling with laughter, until the old crone scowls and slithers back into her house like the snake she is. “Good riddance,” the redhead says, opening the truck’s door and sliding behind the wheel, “Let’s blow this joint.”

“Joint?” JJ asks, climbing into the passenger seat and slamming the door behind him, Binx instantly curling up on his lap, “Did you say joint?”

“You and weed, I swear...” She laughs and goes to start the engine before she realizes she’s grasping at an empty ignition and lets her head fall against the steering wheel with a thunk, “Son of a bitch, I forgot my keys. I’ll be right back.”

Going back inside isn’t as hard as Sailor thought it would be, but leaving is a whole other ball game. She snatches her keys from the bathroom sink where she left them and heads back toward the front door; she’s just passing by their family portrait when it hits her: this is it, the last time in who knows how long she’ll be here. It’s now or never. She thinks of it as a weight on her shoulders, one that’s been dragging her down for far too long, like Atlas holding up the sky, but unlike him, she’s going to break the chains and set herself free.

In one final, sudden burst of years of anger and hurt and frustration, she rips the picture from the hook and smashes it to the floor, sending pieces of glass and wood skittering down the hall before striding from the house and all its memories without a backwards glance, slamming the door behind her with a resolute bang.

Surprisingly, John B doesn’t give a shit about the cat when they show up at the Chateau but he does give a shit about Sailor and her well-being after they give him a quick rundown of the afternoon’s happenings.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Sail?” He asks as he and JJ carry her bags into the house and deposit them in the spare room, the redhead trailing behind with Binx in her arms.

“That’s the age old question, bro,” She deflects with a shrug, taking a seat on the bed and setting the cat down beside her; he instantly takes off to explore his new home as she continues, “Who actually knows if they’re okay? What’s okay to one person can be completely different to another-”

“Sailor, seriously.”

She glances back and forth between the two boys -two sweet, caring boys- watching her with twin looks of understanding and relents. “Look, I’m still kind of...processing everything, alright? I’m not exactly sure what I’m feeling and I don’t know how long it’s gonna take for me to find out but I promise you,” She says softly, looking them both in the eye, “I’ll let you know if I’m not okay. Deal?”

JJ shoots her an enthusiastic thumbs up while John B opts for a simple nod and she grins before pulling the bottle of Jack Daniels from her backpack with a flourish. “Good. Now, I think we could all use a drink.”

The trio (and Binx, house thoroughly explored) bums around the living room while the afternoon slowly turns to evening, the wind outside getting worse with each passing hour the storm moves closer, passing the bottle back and forth until none of them are anywhere close to sober. What started as a game of truth or dare quickly dissolves into straight up truth as they get remarkably philosophical about what animal they’d want to be (an eagle for John B, a wolf for JJ, and to absolutely no one’s surprise, a dolphin for Sailor) and then have a deep, animated discussion about the best Star Wars movie and why it’s The Empire Strikes Back. Later, when the whiskey’s down to a few sips left and their collective demons have retreated to the very back of their minds, JJ drunkenly suggests playing strip poker and both Sailor and John B have to remind him that none of them a.) know how to play poker or b.) even own a deck of cards.

“Damn it!” The sly grin falls from his face when he realizes they’re right and he dejectedly sinks back into the couch, head coming to rest on the redhead’s shoulder. “I wanna see you take your clothes off, Flynn.”

She laughs loudly and grabs the bottle from his hand before taking a big sip and passing it to John B. “You’re gonna have to try harder than that, Maybank.” Whiskey, she found out few months ago, hits her hard: her filter? Gone. Blushing? Aside from the flush in her cheeks from the alcohol, gone. Self-consciousness? As long gone as her father. She’ll flirt her heart out without giving a single shit and it’s both a blessing and a curse, as well as an endless source of secondhand embarrassment in the morning.

“That’s okay, you know I like a challenge.” He declares with a wink, cracking up when she plants her hand directly on his face and pushes him off her shoulder as John B snorts and downs the last of the liquor without either of them noticing.

“Jesus, get a room,” He uses the empty bottle to point down the hall, then sets it on the side table with a hollow thunk as he leans back and stretches his arms above his head. “There’s one right there.”

Sailor gives him a swift kick in the shin with her bare foot for that, plus the shit-eating grin on his face. The trio lounges around for a little while longer, relaxing in a whiskey-induced haze; the redhead finds herself nodding off every so often, slipping back further and further until her head finds a place to rest on JJ’s lap and her legs end up on John B’s. The feel of fingers running through her hair is so feather light that she can barely keep her eyes open and before she knows it, she’s down for the count.

When she wakes some indefinite amount of time later the room is dark, the only light coming from the moon shining through the windows and John B’s gone from his spot by her feet, Binx curled up in a ball on the cushion instead. JJ’s dead asleep, hand stalled in her curls and the sight of his head tipped back against the couch with his mouth slightly open is so damn endearing that she can’t help but smile, even as she reaches a hand up to gently shake his shoulder.

“J, wake up.”

“Five more minutes.” He groans, free hand sluggishly pushing her arm away. Sailor sits up and swivels to face him before shaking him again, giggling quietly at the way his head lolls from side to side.

“Come on, the bed’s way comfier than this.”

Sleepy blue eyes open to give her a heavy look that screams both gratification and longing and so much hope as he quips, “You just want me in your bed again, don’t you?”

She reverently rolls her eyes but reaches to grab his hands anyway and pulls him to his feet, both swaying in place before they find their balance. “And if I do?”

The corner of his mouth rises in a small, adorable smile as his fingers entwine with hers. “I’d say that’s right where I want to be.”

“Well, you’re in luck ‘cause that’s where I want you to be, too.” Still a little bit tipsy, her words are honest, sincere, and as she leads him down the hall, she realizes that old saying is true: drunk words are sober thoughts. After three weeks sharing a home, a room, a bed, she just doesn’t think she can sleep without him anymore and that belief doesn’t quite scare her as much as she thought it would.

Lying wrapped up in his arms in the dark, Sailor finds herself dreaming of a future -as much of a future an impoverished, quasi-homeless, not-quite alright, not-quite-seventeen year old can dream of- with the damaged boy that holds oceans in his eyes.

A few miles away, Carmen Flynn sits on her daughter’s bed with a broken picture frame in her hands as she cries, all alone in an empty house with no idea how to make things okay again.

let me know what you think! also, fun fact: sailor compares her short-term memory to a chimp because studies have shown that chimpanzees are the absolute worst at remembering things, not goldfish as we previously thought (they can remember things for at least five months, compared to chimps who, despite their similarities to humans, forget things in about twenty seconds). sailor, being a zoology nerd, would definitely find that fascinating and make it her mission to educate the masses that goldfish aren’t that stupid jj finds it both adorable and kind of hot

taglist ❤: @sinkbeneathwaves @jiaraendgame @hmsjiara @obxsummer @maysbanks @alexa-playafricabytoto @sunflowerbecca @obxlife @obx-adventures @sexualparkour @coltonparayyko @miawantsapuppy @jjmaybanky @ethereallust

48 notes · View notes

lightsandlostbells · 4 years

Text

wtFOCK season 3, episode 1 reaction

So! It’s a million years too late, but I decided to talk about wtFOCK season 3.

I had fairly positive feelings about S1 of wtFOCK. It was the scrappy underdog of the Skam remakes, in a way, and what it lacked in polish, it made up for authenticity. I was very willing to overlook its flaws because of what I perceived as genuine attempts to connect with teenagers. I was really, really holding out hope that future seasons would improve on its flaws. And ... well. (Disclaimer: I still haven’t seen S2. Sorry! I just failed to keep up with all the remakes and S2 is my least fave so I didn’t feel that motivated to make it a priority, even though I did like Zoë a lot in S1.)

Heads up - I didn’t care for this season. A lot of people did, and I would never, ever want to ruin someone’s enjoyment of something, even if I personally didn’t like it. So please take this as a warning that I have a lot of negative things to say, and don’t read if it’s going to harsh your buzz for a pairing or a story that you deeply love. However, I didn’t want to just be grumpy and angry the whole time, so I tried to think of constructive ways to fix certain problems I had with this season. No guarantees that they’re satisfying solutions, but it was an interesting exercise.

Also, I didn’t watch this in real time, and I paid barely any attention to fandom reactions and/or drama, so it’s very possible that I am missing context, or that pacing issues didn’t register with me quite as strongly, etc. If one of the actors ate a live dolphin on Instagram, and then got into a fight with fans on Twitter about their right to eat live dolphins, and now fandom has canceled the problematic dolphin-eating actor, I legit do not know, do not come at me if I’m like “This actor is doing a good job” with “Wow, didn’t know you stanned dolphin-eaters??? YIKES.” Honestly, for the purposes of just grading this season on a storytelling level, I would prefer not to know anything about the cast or crew unless it directly has an impact on the show itself.

Clip 1 - House party

OK, I did like this flashy intro shot, immersing us in the Wild ‘n’ Crazy Teen Party of Wild ‘n’ Crazy Youths.

Amber rejecting every dude in site … When Will Gay Vilde Rise. (I know there have been some f/f storylines in the remakes, but if there’s one involving an actual Vilde, please let me know.)

Luca saying “We’re not walking around in a high school drama” - you can hear the rimshot.

I do like the transition from the party up to the bathroom, that’s a cool shot. wtFOCK’s directing so far is more ambitious than it was in S1.

Robbe is clearly a mess and they acknowledge his problems at home right off the bat.

We go back downstairs. wtFOCK’s version of Magnus knocks his drink on Amber and she gets pissed. She gives him the finger and he falls in love. Still a better love story than S3 Daphne/Basile.

It’s a small point, but I don’t get why we didn’t get this moment before jumping up to the bathroom with Robbe and the others? It would be a far smoother transition, just on a practical level and also in the sense of fully immersing us in Robbe’s POV after a quick update with the other characters.

Belgian Magnus joins the guys in the bathtub and announces he’s in love. They roast him when they find out it’s Amber and start talking about hot chicks. Moyo starts grilling Robbe about his type of girl, in a crass, sexual way.

This is honestly not a bad start to Robbe’s story at all. Robbe is clearly more reluctant to get into his interest in girls than Isak was - Isak was more fuckboyish from the start, Robbe seems like he’s about to start squirming and doesn’t really give an answer to Moyo’s questioning. Which is fine! I think it’s fine to start off the POV character at different stages of performing heterosexuality, as long as it’s taken into account in the writing of the character’s whole arc. The fact that the boy talk is so crude and sexual just ramps up Robbe’s alienation.

I swear, I will never understand how the girls in this scene just go into the bathroom and pee in front of strange boys … like maybe I am just a ~prude but that seems like a recipe for disaster and I would not trust those little fuckers to not be secretly recording me on the toilet.

Her peeing is kind of a power move, like marking her territory.

Also L M A O at Robbe starting to flirt with the girl while she is pissing … like now this comes off as a kink thing. OK, Robbe. Jokes aside, this gets across the same meaning as the scene with Isak: he starts to flirt with her because he was encouraged by the other guys.

Uh, flush the toilet, lady. And use some TP.

Now this version of Emma seriously radiates some Natalie Portman in The Professional vibes.

She orders him to stand up and then starts kissing him. I get way less of a vibe of Robbe’s mad game with women (like how Isak negged Emma into kissing him) and more like this girl is the love interest out of an indie romcom, all mysterious and spunky. She kisses him like once after taking his jay and then leaves. The boys all crack up. Moyo tells Robbe it’s his responsibility to get the weed back which lmao, no it’s not, all you assholes were there and could have intervened.

This scene is perfectly fine and even effective! Not entirely the same vibes as OG, but it still has a purpose and some obvious cause-and-effect, and there are some nice stylistic choices.

Clip 2 - Party pt. 2

Robbe is now making out with mystery girl. We already have a divergence in characterization from OG. Isak was being performative about making out with Emma and shut it down once the guys left. Robbe is making out with this girl because he wants to be straight, I guess? If it’s not to appeal to his friends, it’s likely that this is for himself. Again, I have no real problem with this change if it’s incorporated into Robbe’s overall arc and characterization. My thing is, if you’re writing this scene, do you realize the differences in characterization? Or do you think this is interchangeable from what happened with Isak? The latter is where you run into problems, because then the writing shows lack of nuance. I bring this up here because, well, you can guess how I feel about later events.

Luca seems rather aggro about the mystery woman, which I assume is because she still has the hots for Robbe?

It makes me laugh that we got this first-person POV as Robbe leaves through the garage, because of the “Smack My Bitch Up” song being played in the last clip (the song had an infamous music video, banned from MTV in the ‘90s, that was from a first-person POV). But again, WTFock is trying harder with the cinematography and direction, good for them.

Robbe ditches the cops by jumping on the bike with Belgian Emma. OK, I get it, Belgian Emma is too cool for school.

I have kinda mixed feelings on that, actually. I mean, I’ll be honest - I don’t see why any Emma has to be made into someone more palatable. Definitely don’t demonize her or present her in a misogynistic way! She deserves sympathy and dignity as much as any character on a Skam. But … it’s fine if she and the Isak aren’t like, amazingly compatible except for his sexuality. The Even character is supposed to be the one who really shakes up the Isak’s world! The Isak is supposed to be lost and confused and drifting and then Even comes in and is someone he can really open up to. Not just because he’s another guy who’s into guys, but because Even’s personality meshes with Isak’s so easily while still challenging him and introducing him to new things. In a way, it does kinda diminish the effect of the Even if the Isak meets ANOTHER mysterious stranger who’s an awesome person. Or at the very least, it lessens the feeling of the Isak’s detachment from everything.

And again, this could work if the writing realizes it. You can totally craft a subtly different arc from the pieces of Isak’s season. It’s just that (speaking from the future) I do not feel this is what happened.

Clip 3 - Tagging time

I don’t think it’s necessary to break up all the parts of a longer scene/set piece into a bunch of different clips. If you start a scene at 16:00, it’s OK to have the clip take place over several hours. You don’t need to chop it up unless there’s a reason why this pacing might benefit the story. Honestly, if you’re watching in real time, I think this method is often less effective at building tension/emotion/etc. But wtFOCK is not the first remake to try this tactic.

... this part where Robbe and Noor put on masks sure hits differently in 2020.

Belgian Emma’s name is Noor and she takes him to a warehouse, or something? It’s very secret and Cool Kid. And IDK, it’s fun, but again… I think making the Emma that much of a fun mysterious cool exciting person is very much diminishing the effect of Robbe’s isolation. We had a good start with establishing that alienation while he was in the tub, but now his reactions to her rad hipness feel way too sincere and act against the major character conflict of his season. He seems nervous to go with her, but not because he’s with a girl, just because it’s a risky scenario.

Noor hands Robbe a spray paint can and leads him to tag a wall. There’s a guy taking pictures. So I’m assuming one of the guys in masks is the Even? The POV seems to shift to the photo guy briefly, like we’re seeing Robbe through his eyes. And even though I’m not a fan of POV breakage, I do think this is a cool way to introduce the Even without really introducing him, you know? If that’s him. (EDIT from the future: Ummm, so that wasn’t Sander, right? I’m rewatching and it doesn’t look like him. Soooo that part has even less relevance than I originally thought. Got it.) (EDIT from the future beyond the future: @hellswolfie tells me that this actually was Sander, so I am just bad at recognizing people, lol.)

Robbe and Noor take off their masks briefly to kiss. Uhhhh, did the scene really just … cut off there? Because L M A O what a weird choice. We don’t get to see what Robbe creates on the wall, which could be a great way to establish his character, AND we end with him on a smiley, contented note which does not boost his POV at all. It legit just makes him seem like a guy who’s into this girl, and sorry, even if that’s his public persona at this point in time … that’s not what we, the audience should be getting at all.

Clip 4 - Boy squad morning after

Robbe skateboards to meet up with the guy squad. Again, the directing is far better IMO than in S1.

Robbe got the weed back so that conflict is over, I guess.

He gets a call from his mom and stops laughing with the guys and gets serious. He walks away to take the call. Then he starts to open up to Jens about his mom freaking out, and then Moyo spots some girls so they all ditch Robbe to go chase girls, and WOW, Jens, please turn in your Jonas card.

Don’t love that we didn’t hear his mom on the phone. There’s no reason not to let us hear what she’s saying since it would be in Robbe’s POV AND as it turns out, they just tell us about the situation with his mom right off the bat, anyway, so it’s not like there’s much point in hiding it.

This was effective in a sense to establish how girl-crazy his friends are, as well as setting up Robbe’s isolation, which I was worried wouldn’t come across as strongly after meeting Noor. But I think they could have NOT mingled in his mom issues to make this part more effective. Like if the goal was to show more of Robbe being alienated because he’s gay, then that’s not entirely successful, because there are non-gay reasons why Robbe wouldn’t join his pals on the girl chase. I mean, even a horny hetero Robbe might not want to chase girls with his bros because talking to his mom is a downer, so it’s not necessarily because of his sexuality. Plus he just found a girl he liked in Noor, so apparently, he’s not on the prowl. What this part IS communicating that the Belgian guy squad doesn’t have much interest in their friend’s family struggles, which ... ehhhh, maybe not great in the grand scheme of the storyline? These guys can be flawed, for sure, but we do need them to care about Robbe’s well-being. And Robbe tried to open up here, so the flaw is not in him, it’s in his friends. I’m going to let it slide because Jens was offering to help Robbe in the first clip, so it’s not like he’s been a totally insensitive friend this whole time.

Clip 5 - Phone call from Robbe’s dad

Noor jumps on Robbe and they make out. She shows him the garage and they talk about the tagging world or w/e. Again, not sure why they are portraying Noor as like … a legit love interest. I don’t get much of a sense of discomfort from Robbe. Isak was just not into Emma and was uncomfortable when his bathroom flirting came back to haunt him. And I don’t think it’s TERRIBLE not to follow that route, but you can’t just make this huge change if you don’t account for it in future episodes and Robbe’s overall arc. (EDIT from the future: Which I don’t think they do, otherwise I wouldn’t care.) Every scene should count in furthering Robbe’s character, especially this early in the season where we’re just getting to know his particular struggles. If Robbe is trying to convince himself to like girls, then I want to see definite vulnerability in how that’s portrayed.

I blame the directing/writing more than the acting for the lack of discomfort, since I sensed Robbe’s lack of comfort just fine in the bathtub scene.

Makeouts get interrupted when Robbe’s dad calls. Again, not sure why we aren’t hearing both sides of the conversation? Because we’re in Robbe’s POV. Why wouldn’t we hear them? This seems like they just want to create some suspense or mystery over the situation with his parents. But it’s perfectly possible to do so while still letting us in on the phone calls. In fact, it’s arguably more intriguing to let us listen to some phone calls where we get some vague details but nowhere close to the whole story. It’s not like Robbe’s dad is going to explain the whole situation to his son in an exposition dump. We can get some crumbs to tease us, while still keeping us in Robbe’s POV and not feeling like the show is cutting corners.

Robbe gets mad at his dad and tells Noor he needs to be alone. Closeup on Noor as Robbe walks away. OK … why? Why on her and not Robbe when it’s his POV? Why the focus on Noor’s feelings when we really need to be establishing our protagonist’s mindset in the beginning of this season? I’m not saying her feelings don’t matter, I’m saying that well, this isn’t her story. It would be better to see Robbe’s pained reaction as he leaves.

Clip 6 - Robbe’s dad drama

Jens comes running up while Robbe is being sad. Robbe says that it may be necessary for him to stay with Jens because Robbe’s mom has been committed to a mental health institution and Robbe doesn’t want to stay with his dad. Ah, so I guess we’re hearing that right away. Which honestly makes not hearing his phone calls to his parents even funnier - like you lock us out of his POV arguably for the suspense, but then you end the suspense anyway by just telling us what happened a scene or two later? All right. I guess there’s suspense in that we don’t know exactly what’s up with the mom, mental health-wise, or the root of Robbe’s problems with his dad.

It occurs to me that maybe they just didn’t want to hire people to voice Robbe’s parents? Or put in the time to film both sides of the conversation? I have a hard time believing either of those because it’s so lazy, but.

I mean, just turn the phone conversations into text conversations if you’re not going to let us listen to Robbe’s parents on the other end.

They go and play football without really resolving the situation. Sad music plays while Robbe joins in. Also, someone was calling Robbe, and I assume it was his dad, but it’s not shown.

These clips are VERY short and choppy so far. You could easily combine the last two, so Robbe is with Jens instead of Noor when he gets the other phone call from his dad, leading into this conversation.

We know immediately about Robbe’s mom’s situation instead of it being a mystery, like with Isak. Which, again, isn’t inherently wrong, but then I want them to DO SOMETHING with it.

Clip 7 - Jens and Jana

Oh hey, Jana got her braces off! IDK if that happened last season or this one, but it was something I liked, seeing a teenage girl with braces on a teen drama. That rarely happens unless it’s a joke or a plot point.

OK, they really need to film Robbe’s phone so I can actually see who’s calling…

Jens tells Jana about Robbe’s parental situation. I’ll note that first she asks if something’s up with Noor, so news of the Robbe/Noor relationship must have traveled really fast since they’ve only just gotten together. Like Robbe and Noor are clearly dating, going off Jana’s comment, and not just hooking up. Then Belgian Magnus wants to know about hooking up with Amber. Meanwhile Robbe is having a conversation off screen with his dad? Guess it wasn’t important!

And that’s the problem, obviously. It’s his POV season, anything you decide to show SHOULD be important to his storyline.

Also … it’s fine that we’re focusing on Robbe’s shit home life since that’s relevant to his story, but almost nothing in these clips has set up Robbe’s attraction to men, and only slightly his lack of interest in girls, which was negated by him seeming very interested in a girl afterwards. And knowing how long this season takes to get going with the Even character, it’s a pretty glaring omission.

So we don’t see Robbe’s phone call with his dad, but he gets snappy about it when Jens asks. One of the boys (I can’t tell who) says that Robbe’s on his period. Gonna be real, I don’t care for this squad so far.

What was the point of this clip? We already know Robbe is having problems with his dad, which is the most relevant part to the plot here. We shouldn’t be wandering from Robbe’s POV so much, but even taking that into account … we already know Belgian Magnus likes Amber, so that’s not necessary to establish. And we didn’t need to see Jens tell Jana something we already know. I assume he tells her so Zoë can find out and offer a room, but there’s no reason to see Jens tell Jana this, so. Filler clip.

Clip 8 - Zoë and Robbe at the lockers

Yeah, Zoë offers Robbe a place to stay here, but again, we didn’t need to see the news travel down the Jens-Jana pipeline. It could have been condensed more efficiently.

Robbe doesn’t want to because he says his dad wouldn’t approve. Zoë says she hopes things get better with his mom and Robbe at first snaps and tells her to leave it, then says thanks. This is an actual good interaction, writing-wise, kudos.

I liked Zoë a lot in S1 and I like her here again. I really should watch her season despite my Noorhelm allergy. The scene of them kinda smiling at each other across the hallways reminds me that this is probably the strongest relationship in the whole season, tbh.

Why was this clip so short? So many of these clips could have been combined into one. I mean, Zoë could have said, “I heard from Jana who heard from Jens...” without us needing the previous clip. Although, did Robbe really want anyone else to know about his home life? Lol @ Jens just blabbing Robbe’s private business.

So I guess they didn’t set up the Eskild situation in S2 that would lead to Eskild offering Robbe a place to stay?

Clip 9 - Robbe gets roommates

Robbe is in Zoë’s room. He sees her “everyone you know is fighting a battle” quote next to the mirror, which is a detail I actually quite like in context with the rest of this storyline and Even’s condition. It’s a good Skam thesis overall.

I guess Zoë met with Robbe’s dad. Zoë calls him a tough cookie. Robbe doesn’t want to speak to him. They bond a little over their parental problems. Again, a nice detail.

Belgian Eskild appears and teases Robbe a little before announcing that Robbe’s dad has agreed to let him stay in the flat. Yay!

Oh, so Senne is staying there, too? At least they didn’t do a pointless Noorhelm breakup in this version.

Milan (the Eskild) tries to go in for a hug and Robbe isn’t cool with it, so at least that’s something with Robbe’s issues with men. (I think? The thing is, Robbe also does not really know Milan, so it’s not as weird that he’s not ready to be affectionate with a near-stranger.) (EDIT from the future: Keeping the S2 almost-kiss that’s referenced in the next clip in mind, I can rationalize this moment as a continuation of that awkwardness from Robbe’s POV.)

They chat with Lisa (Linn) who wants to direct Robbe on what he is and isn’t allowed to touch in her room, heh. Milan and Zoë have cute interaction, and Robbe looks happy. I do like the flatmate vibe so far, they seem fun.

Clip 10 - Robbe and Milan

Senne and Zoë get cute. I haven’t seen S2 so I can’t give my opinion on their version of Noorhelm, but I did think a few things about them were less creepy in wtFOCK’s S1 than in OG. Milan talks about how they’re a Disneylike couple and Robbe laughs.

Then Robbe apologizes for something that evidently happened in S2, where Milan tried to kiss Robbe at a party? Again, I didn’t see the scene. Milan says he’d never try to do that. He offers Robbe a hug, which he accepts - tbh I don’t know if Robbe SHOULD accept based on where he is in his character arc, maybe he should have more skittishness? But it’s a nice character moment, at least. They really have to make up for lost time with the Robbe-Milan relationship, so I can get that they need to establish some closeness fast.

Not being in the wtFOCK fandom, I kinda wonder if there was backlash to that scene from before and this is damage control, LMAO.

I feel like you could’ve tweaked this to be more representative of Robbe’s issues, like have him stress here that he’s not gay, because it’s a sweet scene but again, I don’t feel like this episode built up Robbe’s internal dilemma very well. You could make this not just about smoothing over whatever bump there was in this relationship, but also about setting up some internal tension with Robbe’s sexuality issues. Multi-tasking - it’s great!

EDIT from the future: OK, I tracked down the S2 scene, and yeah, while it illustrates some of Robbe’s internalized homophobia, I really think you needed to carry this through to this clip. Because that was a very public situation, and they made a point of emphasizing onlookers’ reactions. I feel like you need to show that Robbe’s internalized homophobia isn’t just about external reactions, but internal struggles, because ... so far, that’s what it is? Like what is he doing with Noor otherwise?

Clip 11 - Housewarming party

Party is underway. Yasmina is there and is friendly with Robbe. It sounds like they’re working on a school project together. Aaron (Magnus) and Moyo are talking about hot chicks again.

Noor arrives and the boys tease Robbe about how far he’s gone, Robbe looks pretty chill and happy until Moyo says Robbe’s getting laid tonight and you can see the nerves and reluctance take over. Okay! A character detail that actually works for his arc! Yes!

Partying, makeouts with Noor … sorry but they are wasting a lot of time with this relationship. ROBBE ISN’T INTO HER. Here’s the thing: I don’t want to demonize any of Evak’s female “love interests,” right? It’s pointless anyway because Evak is the endgame pairing, Sonja and Emma aren’t “threats” in the end, but also because they’re not bad people just for wanting to date these two guys who happens to want each other instead. And I think you can do interesting things with Sonja and Emma as characters. I’ve read Sonja fanfic that’s really good!

But when it comes down to it … this is not the story of Robbe/Noor, and there’s a point where it feels like there’s too much development for something that is really intended to be a speed bump in Robbe’s journey.

I guess it’s a pet peeve of mine when gay stories devote a ton of time to het relationships, to the point where it begins to overshadow the main gay relationship. Love, Victor did this to an absolutely ridiculous degree. (I actually made notes for Love, Victor reactions, but hesitated to post them because 60% consisted of me typing I DON’T CARE ABOUT THESE STRAIGHT ROMANCES.) And I GET it, this is an experience many gay kids go through in their coming out journey, but also, less charitably… you don’t need het romance to dominate everything. You don’t need to make this about how a gay person being gay hurts a straight person. I genuinely appreciate that once Isak kisses Even, it’s fucking over with him and Emma, that plot thread is done.

Anyway, Noor tells Robbe he’s so fucking hot and Robbe looks more uncomfortable, moreso when she wants to see his room and he goes off like he’s headed to Mordor.

Aaron checking out Amber … okay, again with all the het. I don’t care!!! This is not important right now!!

Noor pushes Robbe onto the bed, ugh please don’t have them Go There.

She takes off her top and Robbe touches her boob like he’s sticking his hand into a porta-potty. We see his discomfort so at least this part is effective and relevant to Robbe’s arc. Noor is taking off her bra when the boys come into the room, wanting the weed. Okay, you dumb fucks, you’re teasing your bro about getting laid and yet you think it’s cool to enter his room when he’s with a girl? I mean, that’s a lucky break for Robbe, but his friends are extra stupid.

The mood is killed, Robbe goes hunting for weed. Episode ends.

HOW I WOULD REWRITE THIS EPISODE:

Lmao, some of my changes sounded a lot like “be like OG Skam S3.” Because Skam S3 was well-written and made sense. But I tried to think of edits that worked with what wtFOCK was presenting, not just repeating OG.

(I’m also repeating a few things in this section that I said above, btw)

While this episode doesn’t make me angry or anything, it’s got a serious problem with dithering. The first clip is a solid start to the season, but afterwards, so many of these clips feel like filler. There’s a lack of substance to them. It was hard to write about them because they ended up feeling like two minutes of nothing.

Did we need to see repetitive mentions of Robbe’s troubled relationship with his dad? No, it’s an important plot detail but we could have established that more concisely in fewer clips. Did we need to see the process of how Robbe comes to stay with Zoë, Senne, and Milan? No, not really. Or at least not dragged out over at least three clips.

I don’t feel like I’m in Robbe’s head to the extent that I should be so far. Some of this is because the show just flat-out locks us out of his POV, like not showing the phone call in the Jens-Jana clip. But a lot of it is also because of the narrative dawdling. There’s just not as much to analyze unless I bring in Skam season 3 and project what we know about Isak onto Robbe. And that’s not a good way to adapt a story.

The framing of Robbe/Noor needs to change. Combine the bathroom intro with the aborted sex scene - the boys are sitting in the tub, teasing Robbe about getting laid, so he makes out with Noor and they go into a bedroom where he’s clearly not into this, and then Moyo and Aaron come in asking for weed because Robbe still actually has the weed from the bathtub at this point. Or do what Skam France did (can’t believe I’m referring to Skam France) and have the arrival of the cops interrupt the makeout/sex session and Robbe takes his cue to exit.

But frankly, it’s not great to have Robbe acting or looking too cozy with Noor, like this is a legitimate romantic arc except when it gets to the sex. The point is that this isn’t a romance. Even if you want to show some cuddly, non-sexual scenes with Noor, you have to show more of Robbe’s reluctance and fear throughout.

Show Robbe’s fucking phone conversations with his parents!!!! Good Lord. He’s not ordering a pizza. These are important aspects of his story. Capitalize on that family tension, show us what a bad place Robbe is in at the start of this season.

Now, about the lack of Even in this episode. Not introducing Even is a bold move, but not necessarily a smart one. Even’s introduction in Skam is not just the intro of “the love interest” - he’s the catalyst for almost everything in Isak’s story. Consider that in episode 1, Isak is seen mostly unhappy and bored - he’s distraught after kissing Emma, he’s checked out of his friends’ lunchtime girl talk, he zones out staring at his teacher’s boobs, he doesn’t want to be at kosegruppa. Isak is actually very passive and just going through the motions, doing what people tell him to do. But once Isak meets Even at kosegruppa - well, that’s when Isak wakes up. In the next few clips, we see Isak taking action. And sure, they’re small actions, searching for Even online, watching the Even video over and over, asking Vilde if there will be more kosegruppa meetings. But we can see that Isak now cares about something, he’s paying attention. Of course, Robbe’s story doesn’t have to follow the same arc. However, it does the season a huge benefit to get him intrigued by something at this point, so we the audience are not just sleepwalking along with him for a few episodes.

There’s also just the simple fact that we have only 10 episodes to establish a love story and make us care about the Even character, and it’s a very risky move to waste too much time. If you are really killing it with the rest of Robbe’s arc, this could still work, but ... well, that’s not what’s happening here.

If they didn’t want to full on introduce the Even directly, one thing they could do is subtly and indirectly find ways to include him in the narrative and create some mystery. Let’s say Robbe sees the Even’s artwork somewhere and is like whoa, that’s cool, and we can tell that it resonates with him. Or he admires Even’s graffiti, or it makes him laugh, whatever. Basically Robbe has some kind of emotional reaction to a thing the Even has created or done, which helps to set up that relationship even before we officially meet the Even.

If we want to add a little more, perhaps Robbe sees a mysterious dude in a mask tagging a wall, but they get interrupted by the cops or something and have some kind of brief but intriguing interaction with each other, and Robbe’s like, who was that guy in the mask? Or Noor takes Robbe to the tagging place, the police/security bust them, Robbe and Noor get separated, and Robbe gets helped out by the Even so he can escape. So it’s an important moment, lots of adrenaline, we can frame it like there’s a sudden ~charge~ between them (ooOOOooo the Even helped Robbe stand up and their hands touched like this was a fanfic, etc.), but he doesn’t learn Even’s name, maybe he doesn’t even see his face because Even has a mask on, so Robbe spends part of the next few episodes trying to figure out who that guy is, casually asking Noor if she knows a guy like that, keeping his eyes open. Maybe we have some fakeouts where Robbe thinks he sees the Even again but it’s just a false alarm. He’s on edge, eager to know more about that mystery guy, and so are we. Bam, we have “awakened” Robbe from his deep sleep.

If you’ve seen Netflix’s The Get Down, there’s even a scene like this where Jaden Smith’s character gets caught tagging by the cops, he runs and flees with another young dude, and they have a moment where they recognize each other as graffiti artists they admire. While watching that scene for the first time, without any context or spoilers, without even knowing if there would be LGBT content in that show, I immediately thought, “This guy is his love interest.” Not even because it was overtly romantic. Because the way it was written and shot told us that this meeting was important. Because they had an instant connection. Something similar could have worked for Robbe and his Even. But in any case: it would have been best to establish something between those characters, even if it wasn’t an “official” introduction.

Stop focusing on Aaron/Amber when it’s not in Robbe’s POV. Reverse the scene at the beginning with Aaron videotaping and Amber getting spilled on. She gets pissed, he falls in love, and then we follow him upstairs and we meet the boy squad. That is a very obvious, very clean transition that doesn’t interrupt Robbe’s POV as it technically hasn’t started yet. So IDK why they didn’t do that, lmao.

Some changes with the Milan relationship:

Tweak the apology scene to be more representative of Robbe’s issues. Have Robbe apologize while still stressing that he’s not gay. Have Milan be chill and not question that statement, but maybe Robbe is so defensive that it comes across as unconvincing.

Then have Milan be the one instead of the boys to interrupt the Noor almost-sex scene. Milan wanders in acting drunk, haha Milan, he’s wacky. Robbe doesn’t realize it (though the viewers do if they’re paying attention) but Milan is only pretending and is “subtly” rescuing Robbe because he realizes, based on the earlier scene, that Robbe might be struggling with his sexuality and he wants to give him an escape option. (Although I still think it’s best to combine the not-sex scene into the opening clip, but this could work, too.)

Basic questions we need to be asking, clip to clip: what is the conflict? Where is Robbe’s head right now? Why is this scene necessary? How did this scene come to be - what’s the cause and effect here? How does it advance Robbe’s story? Is it redundant? How do we tell this story in a narratively economical manner?

#wtfock reactions

25 notes · View notes